A Storm Is Going To Come
by LamiaJade
Summary: BROTHERHOOD AU. It was supposed to be a simple hunt but after an unforeseen attack things are going downhill fast for one of them. Something's out there and determined to kill. A race against time begins. Hurt/sick!Caleb Hurt/Sick!Dean. Dean 19 & Sam 15
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey folks!

Okay, this is my first attempt to write a Brotherhood AU story. This idea suddenly popped up inside my head on a ride home from work. And despite all my other WIP-stories I had to write it down. :)

I'm kind of nervous about this story, so feedback would be awesome! *puppy dog eyes*

A/N: For the timeline – Dean's 19 and Sam 15.

A/N: An unbelievable huge thank you to Enkidu07 for her beta'ing and thanks for pointing out some certain things (think you know what I mean ^^)! *huggles you* And also a huge thank you to Ridley for letting me play with her awesome brotherhood characters. And to JeanyAlicia for always being there for me when I need her. (you know I love ya, sweetie!)

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything except my crazy fantasy. Everything belongs to Kripke, the CW and to Ridley C. James.

Have fun reading!

A Storm Is Going To Come

Chapter 1

If today was your last day and tomorrow was too late  
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?  
Would you live each moment like your last  
Leave old pictures in the past?

What if, what if, if today was your last day?

If Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback

_**oooo**_

"I still can't believe this…" Caleb swore softly under his breath while fighting his way through thick brushwood. His jacket was soaked to the skin by the light drizzle that had settled in half an hour ago and the temperature seemed to have dropped another few degrees.

This all was so not helping his current mood.

He didn't look back to see if Dean and Sam were still keeping track. He knew they were close by. Though, that was more or less the whole problem.

Sure he was glad about the backup and Dean with his nineteen years was already a damn good hunter but… hunting a Wendigo together with a fifteen-year-old Sam Winchester without any of the other members of the Triad knowing about it didn't feel right.

_Hunting a Wendigo isn't quite a cakewalk_, Caleb thought darkly and almost had to laugh. Those were exactly the same words Dean had used during their short but heated phone call yesterday.

"Come one, Damien, relax. I know you're still pissed at me but with the three of us it's going to be an easy hunt. In, killing that thing, and out in no time." Dean's tone was light and teasing but Caleb knew exactly that the older Winchester was as worried about this whole situation as he was.

"Well, your words yesterday sounded kind of different to me." Reaves shot a quick glance over his shoulder and nearly hit his head on a low hanging tree branch. "Damnit."

A grin twitched around Dean's mouth. "Yeah, well that was because of you thinking about this hunt as a one-man-gig. And that would be like a neon-sign death wish."

"Now the two of you could be in danger too." Caleb snapped. After the whole ordeal two years ago he would be happy to keep the two Winchester boys as far away as possible from a Wendigo.

And there was another thing. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but something about this whole hunt didn't feel right.

Sure he had researched it after Boone had given him the details two days ago and Sammy had researched it a second time just for good measures but still – something bothered him.

"Damien you're acting like this is our first hunt. Well, it isn't, okay! Stop acting like you're Dad." A low angry note was slowly starting to get more audible in Dean's voice.

"Maybe you should listen to the man and the orders he's giving you, Deuce. Maybe that would be safer for everyone." Caleb knew the moment the words left his mouth that this was a low blow. He didn't have to read the kid to know that this hadn't been an easy decision for him. Choosing between obeying strict orders and keeping his little brother save at a motel or risking to let him, Caleb, go out on a Wendigo hunt without any proper backup.

Caleb sighed and stopped in the middle of a small clearing. Slowly he brushed some wet strands away from his forehead. A headache started pounding behind his eyes.

"Look, Deuce, I'm sorry, okay? I just… I don't know. Something feels off about this whole gig." He met the older Winchester's eyes, the green of them, cold and distant. "Plus, if Johnny gets wind about this he will kill me. Or at least make me run manoeuvres for the next few months which would probably be even worse than being dead." The psychic tried for humour though there was truth behind his words.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, tell me about it. If dad finds out that…"

Sam who had been unusually quiet the whole time spoke up now, his voice full of anger and frustration. "Guys I can hear you, you know?" Sam threw an angry look from one man to the other. "And I know that this whole argument is about me being here. But you agreed to take me with you. And I'm so sick and tired of being left behind in some kind of crappy motel room, waiting for all of you eventually coming back. I'm not a damn kid anymore."

"Yeah, well, you're not so grown-up either, runt." Caleb tried to keep his voice light. There was no point in starting a fight here. In a way he could understand Sam. Though it didn't help him get rid of the knot inside his stomach right now. "And it's not like you gave us much choice by blackmailing…"

"I just don't get it. I mean Dad's so stubborn about me becoming a hunter but when I finally do want to be on a hunt with you it's still the wrong decision. I mean, I know Dad's only concerns are hunting that demon down that killed mom to get…"

"Okay, stop it." Dean interrupted emphatically. "Let's just focus on the damn hunt. I'm slowly but surely freezing my ass off here."

Caleb saw the hurt look in Dean's eyes. He could see Dean was trying to stave off another round of Sam blaming their father for everything bad in the world. He knew the fights between the two of them were getting worse lately.

"I couldn't agree more, Deuce." Reaves let his gaze travel over the small clearing they were currently standing on.

The grey daylight was fading into the twilight of early evening. The light drizzle had slowly morphed into a full on pour.

Reaves shuddered slightly. Hell, he just wanted to kill that thing and get them out of here in one piece. Not to mention the hot shower he would take when they were finally out of here and back at the motel.

"Did you hear that?" The youngest Winchester's words pulled him out of his musings.

"Did I hear what?" Caleb felt Dean tense beside him, hands tightening around the gun.

He strained his ears. There, now he could hear it too. The breaking of branches and rustling of bushes. It was barely audible over the patter of the rain.

Caleb's eyes scanned the clearing but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, especially with the increasing darkness throwing shadows over the trees.

Then he felt it. His eyes widened slightly with shock.

"Move! Get away from the clearing!" Caleb ordered harshly. He pushed Dean back in the direction they had currently come from.

"Damien what?" Dean's gaze flickered back and forth between the older hunter and Sam, making sure his little brother was not in any immediate danger.

"We have to get out of here! It's not a Wendigo!" Reaves urged. Whatever was out there was dangerous and determined to kill.

Dean obeyed immediately. In a swift motion he covered Sam even more, who also had a death grip around his gun. Carefully they inched back into the safety of undergrowth.

"What…" Dean started but Caleb silenced him with a dark glare.

"Later. Go!" He positioned himself in front of the two brothers, gun aimed at the now motionless bushes. He battled to calm his racing heartbeat, tried to get another read on the thing.

Caleb never saw the arrow in time.

All of the sudden there was a breathtaking pain in his right side. His vision tunnelled for a few seconds as a wave of nausea hit him.

The shots that echoed around him were muffled and distant over the ringing in his ears.

He couldn't remember how he had ended up on his hands and knees on the damp and cold ground. Every little movement sent new searing pain through his side.

Hands were there all of the sudden, keeping him upright before he could fully face plant.

"Damien! Oh fuck, come on man, you with me?" The psychic heard Dean say over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. Caleb didn't have to read the older Winchester to make out the fearful undertone in his words.

"Sammy, watch the area while I take care of the wound. Shoot at anything that moves or looks suspicious okay?" Dean met his brother's gaze for a brief moment before focusing back at the task at hand.

"Dean, we have to get out of here. Seek cover or something like that before this thing attacks us again." Sam threw a last worried glance at Caleb. The clearing was quiet again, nothing moved.

"We will get out of here. Just let me bandage this first." The older Winchester angled with one arm for the backpack while keeping Reaves upright with the other.

Caleb groaned softly. "God, I think it shot me."

"No shit, Sherlock." Dean exhaled slowly and Caleb could hear the relief in the younger man's voice. "Hold still, I have to get rid of the arrow and bandage the wound properly. It's not a through and through and with some luck there is a good chance it could have missed any organs." He tightened his grip around the arrow.

"What? You're a doctor now?" Caleb gritted his teeth as a new wave of pain washed over him. His gaze wandered from Dean to Sam who was scanning their surroundings, gun aimed and ready to shoot.

The sky had darkened even more. Maybe thirty more minutes or so and it would be completely dark.

Dean let the comment slip. "I'm counting to three then…"

"Just get it out, okay?" It felt like somebody was twisting a hot fire poker inside of him.

Without further warning Dean pulled the arrow out and pressed gauze onto the wound to staunch the bleeding as best as he could.

Reaves could barely bite back an outcry of pain. Hell, it felt like something was trying to tear him apart.

From far away he could hear Dean's muffled voice. It was hard to concentrate on it but eventually he could make out the words.

"… have to calm down. You're hyperventilating." .

Caleb blinked and fought to focus his blurry eyes on the face in front of him. For the first time he noticed that his lungs screamed for oxygen.

"That's it, Damien. Nice and slow." Dean encouraged while pressing more gauze on the wound. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to check on Sam whose gaze ever so often went back to the two other men.

"Okay that sucks!" Caleb panted while battling to breath through the pain.

"You're telling me?" Dean finished bandaging the wound. Hopefully the pressure bandage would keep the blood loss at a minimum.

Caleb fought not to make new pain noises. Mac and John so would kill them when they found out about all this. But one problem at a time though. Right now they had to worry about making it out of here in one piece.

"We have to get out of here before it can make its next move." Caleb tried to stand up but his legs refused to hold him upright.

"Easy." Dean steadied him, a concerned look on his face.

Reaves blinked a few times in a try get rid of the feeling of lightheadedness that still clouded his mind.

"Speaking of it – what the hell is this? And what have you sensed before it attacked us?" Dean pulled the psychic's arm over his shoulder.

"Yeah, what have you felt? I saw the look on your face." Sam eyed Caleb, his face showing the same concern as Dean's just a few minutes ago.

"I… I don't know what exactly it is but… it felt human. Kind of at least."

"It what?" Dean asked as he tightened his hold around the psychic's waist a bit more as Caleb leaned a little heavier on him, his legs not ready to take the weight.

"Kind of?" Sam asked disbelieving, his gaze again wandering over the darkening clearing.

Caleb saw him stiffen for a moment as if he saw something, but then he relaxed and everything was quiet.

Reaves pressed his other hand over the wound. Every step sent new pain up and down his side.

"I can't explain it. In a way it felt human but it was…" He struggled for words. "It felt evil and dark." Caleb bit back another groan. He noticed the worried side glances the youngest Winchester threw at him every so often.

"I'm fine, runt. I had worse you know that." He tried to sound reassuring.

"You reading me?" Sam looked at him over his shoulder.

Caleb gave him a tight grin. "Just knowing you."

_**ooooooo**_

The last twenty-so minutes had passed uneventfully.

Darkness had settled in almost completely. All Dean could make out now were just shapes.

Caleb had grown alarmingly quiet. Dean felt him lean more and more on him, his steps had become an unsteady stumble. But it was the ragged breathing that worried him the most.

"Damien, you still in there?" The following lack of response let the knot inside his stomach twist even more.

"Caleb?"

"Still… there D-deuce." Caleb mumbled, his voice hoarse and pained.

"Keep it that way, Damien. Just a little bit longer, okay!"

Reaves nodded slightly. Dean felt his knees buckle and he tightened his grip, making the older hunter groan, but keeping him from falling to the ground.

"Dean?" The older Winchester cringed at the obvious fear and concern in his little brother's voice.

"I think we need a short break." Dean almost carried all of his friend's weight by now.

Sam slowed so that he was walking beside them. "Dean we can't stop here. It's too dangerous. I don't think whatever it is will let us go that easily and flashlights would act like a neon-sign."

"Tell me something I don't know already." Dean snapped and readjusted his hold on Caleb. He knew his friend was running on empty. But something about his condition didn't seem right.

"Maybe fifteen more minutes and we're back at the car." Dean heard veiled fear in Sam's words. "Let's just get out of here please."

Before Dean could reply anything at all Caleb's legs fully gave out under him, sending both men to the ground.

"Whoa Caleb. Sam, get the flashlight!" Dean knew the light would give away their position but screw that. It couldn't get much worse now.

Without any protests Sam fished the flashlight out of his backpack. Seconds later a bright light beam cut through the darkness.

Sam's stomach clenched painfully at the sight in front of him.

Dean had positioned himself behind Caleb, the older hunter's back resting against Dean's chest.

Reaves's face was ghostly white, his sweat soaked hair plastered to his forehead. The small slits of amber glassy and slightly unfocused.

"Shit." Sam swore softly. "How is he?" It was a stupid question and the answer more than obvious. He crouched beside Caleb, his gaze travelling down to the blood soaked bandages.

"You need an answer to that?" Dean placed a hand against Caleb's forehead.

The psychic groaned and turned away slightly.

"Little more … personal space Deuce. You're … worse than Mac."

"Hey." Sam sighed. Sounding relieved.

"Dude, next time you need a break, just say so before you getting close and personal with the ground." Dean could feel the shivers running through the other man's body. He couldn't say if it was a result of the fever or shock. Or maybe a combination of both. As carefully as he could he stripped out of his jacket and draped it around Reaves's shoulders.

Caleb shifted lightly but a sudden breathtaking wave of pain let him stop. Pain lines appeared on his face.

"Easy." Dean squeezed the other man's shoulder reassuringly.

"'s okay. Jus' need a moment to catch 'm breath." Reaves panted, his eyes clenched shut tightly.

Dean's worried gaze met Sam's above the psychic's head. A bad feeling crept up inside his gut.

With a sudden outcry Caleb doubled over. Deep pain lines appeared on the older man's face. His breathing labored and quick.

"Caleb!" Both Winchesters said in union. Sam's hands steadied Reaves, kept him from toppling over completely. The boy cringed at the heat he felt coming off of the psychic.

"Shit, Dean he's burning up."

"I know." Dean's thoughts raced. Could an infection already have set in? Somehow he doubted that. But what…?

Caleb's slight movements pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Caleb you with us?"

"God this sucks!" The older hunter groaned, his breathing still too fast and shallow. He just

wanted to sleep, escape the pain. But he couldn't. Not until he got the boys out of here.

"Caleb what is wrong with you?" Sam carefully checked the bandage. The bleeding seemed to

have slowed. Even they needed some luck.

"Dunno, runt. But somethin' feels wrong."

Dean who had watched the undergrowth around them looked back at his friend.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not entirely sure but I think there was something on the arrow." Oh Mac and Johnny would love that.

"Poison?" Sam asked shocked.

"Fuck, Caleb!" Dean cursed loudly. "You're sure?"

"Guess so. At least it would … explain the symptoms."

"Okay, listen, hang in there a little bit longer. We're almost back at the car. Then we'll call Dad and Mac. They will know what to do. It's gonna be okay."

"You know, Deuce, that … would sound a lot more reassuring without … you panicking." Caleb gave him a weak smile.

"Shut up, Damien. I'm not panicking. You're the girl that fainted." Dean shot back and squeezed the older man's arm.

"'m not faint!" The psychic protested. It seemed to be harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open.

Suddenly Sam's head shot up, a frown appeared on his brow.

"What?" Dean sounded alarmed.

"I thought I heard something." Sam's gaze moved back and forth over the thick, dark bushes. His index finger curled around the trigger, ready to shoot.

Dean's gaze scanned the area as well, the grip around his own gun tightened.

The rain had stopped and the woods were deathly quiet.

The soft breaking of branches to their left was the only indication from where the attack would come.

"Sam! Down!" Within the blink of an eye Dean had pushed Sam not too gently out of the way.

The sudden burning sting on his arm caught him by surprise. He felt the cold wetness of blood slowly seeping into the fabric of his shirt. Damn, the arrow seemed to have nicked him.

Without second thoughts Dean fired in the direction the arrow had come from - the shots loud in the cold autumn night air.

A short, shriek outcry echoed through the silence than the breaking and rustling of undergrowth as it fled deeper into the woods.

"Fuck that was close." Caleb looked up at Dean who still searched the darkness for a possible threat.

"Dean, did the arrow hurt you?" Sam moved closer to the two other men. He couldn't quite hide the slight quiver in his voice.

Dean pushed the throbbing pain back in a far corner of his mind. It had just grazed him. He would clean it later when they were back at the motel.

"No, it didn't touch me." He moved back to Caleb whose trembling arms wouldn't have held him upright much longer. "I think I winged it. That should buy us the time we need to get out of here for good." Dean helped Caleb back onto his feet, one arm again pulling over his shoulder.

"Even the crappiest motel room looks like heaven on earth compared to our current surroundings." Reaves pressed out while trying to keep up with Dean and Sam.

"I'll remind you the next time you bitch about that." Sam had pulled Caleb's other arm over his shoulder.

"Shuddup, runt." The psychic's knees buckled. He blinked tiredly. Hell, his whole body screamed for some sleep.

"Come one, Damien. No sleeping on watch. Hang on, okay. We're almost out of here." Dean coaxed. He briefly met Sam's worried gaze.

"You already said that ten minutes ago." Caleb panted, his breathing ragged and fast.

"There. I can see the car." Sam said, relief in his voice.

"This better … has to be … true." Caleb felt his last bit of strength slowly fading. Whatever that stuff was on the arrow it seemed to work fast.

"He's right." Dean said, seeing the silhouette of his car as well. The moonlight that illuminated the landscape from time to time shimmered soft on the black frame.

"God baby, it's good to see you."

"Deuce … you really … need a girlfriend." Reaves slurred. His steps became clumsier with every passing minute.

"That's what I'm telling him all the time." Sam laughed softly, grateful for the slight distraction.

"Shut up, both of you." Dean growled. He felt Caleb lean more on him. Both of them were now almost completely supporting the other hunter's weight. "Damien, stay with us. Car's right here."

"'m still here." Reaves blinked sluggishly. "Not goin' … anywhere."

_**oooooooo**_

TBC……

Thanks for reading! And reviews feed my muse! ^^

I know my updates sometimes take ages but be assured, I will update. Don't care how long it might take. ;) (Can somebody please come up with a 36-hours-day?)

The event Caleb mentioned at the beginning of the chap is a reference to Ridley's story '_Heroes Revisited'_. Hope you don't mind hon! ^^


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey folks! I'm sorry that this update has taken me so long. My RL has me still in a tight hold. But I'm still trying to wrestle it down – sometimes with success. *looks at this chap* ^^

A/N: The hugest of thanks to all of you who have read, alerted, favorited (does this word even exist? ^^) and especially reviewed this. You guys are so awesome! And your encouraging words mean so much to me! :) *beams*

And I'm so sorry for not replying to all of you. But I'm getting to it. Promise ;)

A/N: Also my hugest thanks to Enkidu07 for beta'ing this despite major time issues. Honey, you rock! And I really don't know what I would do without you! *smishes you*

Disclaimer: See chap one.

Okay, enough of my ramblings. Have fun reading and please let me know what you think about it. *puppy dog eyes*

Previously: _"Shut up, both of you." Dean growled. He felt Caleb lean more on him. Both of them were now almost completely supporting the other hunter's weight. "Damien, stay with us. Car's right here." _

"'_m still here." Reaves blinked sluggishly. "Not goin' … anywhere." _

Chapter 2

Against the grain should be a way of life  
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight  
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try,  
So live like you'll never live it twice  
Don't take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day – Nickelback

Once again Dean's gaze drifted over the dark woods behind them.

They had reached the car without any further incidents but the faster they left these woods for good, the better.

"Sam, get in the back with Damien." Dean readjusted his hold on Caleb. He felt the older hunter leaning heavily on him, nearly letting him support all of his weight.

Sam just nodded quietly and started climbing into the car. Dean didn't need to see the kid's eyes to know the fear that was still palpable in them.

He cursed silently. This was just another reason for Sam to hate hunting. New ammo for fights.

A low groan brought the middle Winchester out of his thoughts.

"No… riding shotgun? Dude … since when am I forced… to sit in the back… with the kids?"

Caleb smirked though it was a bad imitation of his normal grin.

"What? And help you escape Sammy's fussing and mother-henning? No way, man." Dean played along, thankful for the little piece of normality Caleb was offering him.

"You're … cruel … D-deuce." The older hunter gasped as a new wave of pain ripped through his body. His knees buckled.

Dean tightened his grip to keep him upright.

"Easy, Damien. Try to breathe through it." Dean coaxed though he couldn't quite hide the tremble in his voice.

"E-easier s-said … than …done." Caleb gasped again, his breathing coming in short, quick pants.

New searing pain made him double over slightly. Dean tightened his grip even more. He now was the only thing that kept the psychic upright.

"Easy. It's going to be okay." Damn, he felt so goddamn helpless.

White-hot anger flared inside his chest. This thing, whatever it was, would die a slow and painful death, he would make sure of it.

"T-think …. hafta s-sit down." Reaves gasped, voice pained and breathy, his eyes squeezed shut.

Nodding, Dean helped him into the car.

It was a slow going process but eventually Caleb's back rested against Sam's chest.

Getting a water bottle out of the trunk, Dean handed it to Sam.

"Let him drink some of this. He can't get dehydrated." Dean said seriously. His gaze travelled back over his shoulder to the thick, black wall of trees. For the blink of an eye he was sure that there was someone or something standing at the edge of the woods. But when he blinked again it was gone.

"_He_ can … still hear … you." He heard Caleb mumble grumpily.

Dean smirked. "Just hang in there Damien." He closed the door and jogged around the car.

_**ooooooo**_

Rainclouds raced over the dark night sky, illuminating the surrounding wasteland one second just to drench everything into pitch black darkness the next.

The Impala sped over the wet, dark road.

Everything was quiet. The only sounds were the tires humming on the road and Caleb's ragged breathing.

Dean's thoughts raced. They were out of the woods but that didn't solve the whole arrow-poison problem. They needed help fast.

For the fifth time in two minutes Dean's gaze travelled to the rear-view mirror. He was surprised to meet Caleb's gaze there.

"Deuce … take a picture … it'll last l-longer and … it'll be safer f-for all of … us. K-keep your eyes … on the road."

"Who wants a photo of your ugly mug? Everyone knows that I'm the good looking one." Dean held Reaves's gaze a moment longer, searching for assurance in the older man's eyes, before focusing back on the road in front of him.

"What now?" Sam asked. Right now Dean could easily picture a four-year-old toddler asking his big brother to make everything alright.

Caleb seemed to sense it too.

"I'm gonna be 'kay, runt. Don' worry." Dean could see Reaves's struggle to act normal, to push past the pain the poison was causing.

"We have to clean and dress the wound properly and get help. I'm sure Dad and Mac will know what to do." Dean glanced back into the rear-view mirror. He couldn't see his brother's eyes in the poor dashboard light but he still could see the protest building inside of Sam.

"Dean, this is serious. Caleb needs a hospital." The lost look on Sam's face vanished and back was the teenager who had to question anything and everything.

"No, no, 'spital." Reaves's groaned and tried to sit up straighter. Eventually Sam's hand gently pushed him back as it became obvious that all he was doing was increasing the pain.

"Easy Caleb." The youngest Winchester said softly.

"Damien, I know you hate hospitals. I'm not a fan of them either but Sammy's right. This isn't just a tiny scratch. And we don't know what the poison will do to you." Dean tried to reasoning.

"No… jus' no. And you said … it yourself - it wasn't a … through an' through. An' if I … had internal bleeding … I would have been in s-shock by … now." Caleb's voice was strained and breathless.

"What? Now you're the doctor?" Dean eyed his best friend in the rear-view mirror. Even in the dim light he could see Caleb's obvious struggle to remain consciousness.

"Caleb we should really take you to …" Sam started but the psychic interrupted him.

"Think a-about it. Whatever t-this … stuff is, 'm positive … that it's m-more than some simple poison. Probably … spellwork." Caleb panted, one hand pressing down against the arrow wound.

"How can you know that, Caleb?" Sam insisted stubbornly. "We don't know who or what fired at us. It could also be some yahoo-wannabes. Look, I know you don't like…"

"This… isn't 'bout me … hating hospitals, Sam. If this … i-is some supernatural crap … docs can't do s-shit 'bout it. Probably wouldn' find anything in my blood at all." A sudden wave of pain made Reaves curl forward, one arm tightly pressed over his midsection. A small whimper escaped his throat.

"Caleb." Sam's voice worried and frightened. For a brief moment he met Dean's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Damien, it's okay. No hospital. Dad and Mac will know what to do. Just hang in there." Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. The knot in his stomach twisted painfully.

"Trying…." Caleb moaned in pain, his breathing shallow and way too quick. His eyes closed to mere slits. "F-fuck … this sucks."

"Caleb, come on, no sleeping, you hear me?" Sam shook the older hunter slightly. Worry and fear had morphed into full panic.

"'s hot 'n here. Can y' t-turn the … heater down, Deuce?" Reaves slurred, then his eyes rolled back inside his head, his body sagging limply against Sam.

"Fuck." Dean swore loudly. "Sam?" His eyes flickered back and forth between the road and the rear-view mirror.

He watched Sam pressing two fingers against the psychic's neck.

"He's unconscious. And I think his fever's going up again." Sam looked to the front seat where he met Dean's gaze again. "Please tell me you're not serious about taking him back to the motel. He needs medical help, Dean."

"Sam." Dean sighed wearily. His heart still pounded painfully against his ribs, the knot in his gut tightening with every passing minute. This was spinning out of control. He didn't know what to do. Caleb needed help, but he doubted that a hospital would be the right solution.

"Sammy, Caleb's right. We can't be sure about the poison. And knowing our messed up luck, I'm positive that this is some supernatural shit. And the docs don't know what we know. They can't help."

"But maybe they _can_. And what are you planning to do? Let him suffer in some crappy motel room in the middle of nowhere until we can find out something about this damn poison? Because right now we don't know squat." Sam argued while looking down at Caleb who was shifting restlessly.

"Damnit Sam, could you please stop fighting me here? I don't know okay!" Dean snapped frustrated. "We have to get a hold on Dad and Mac. If they think we should haul ass to a hospital we do that. But right now I'm agreeing with Caleb. A hospital is too big a risk."

He saw new fight building in Sam.

"And how do you want to explain the arrow wound or the poison?" Dean added.

"Hunting accident?" The youngest Winchester shrugged. "All I'm saying is …"

"I heard you, Sammy." Dean's eyes were fixed on the dark road in front of him. The argument was over. But he still wasn't sure if he had made the right decision.

"This sucks." Sam sighed heavily.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Fishing the cellphone out of his pocket he tossed it to Sam.

"Call Dad."

Sam nodded silently and dialed the familiar number, his gaze never leaving the psychic's face.

They drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Goddamnit!" Sam eventually broke the silence frustrated. "I can't reach Dad or Mac. All calls are going directly to voicemail."

"Damn." _Okay, Dean, think!_ "Try Jim's number. He will know what to do. I mean he's the Guardian. And maybe he can get a hold of Dad and Mac." Dean tried his best to ignore the slowly blossoming panic inside his chest. Panic wouldn't help anyone. He had to keep it together for Sammy's sake.

He focused his eyes back on the road. The clouds had won the race against the night sky and new rain was pounding against the windshield.

Finally he heard Sam's whispered 'thank god'.

A small weight lifted from his shoulders. At least they weren't alone in this anymore.

Dean tried to concentrate on Sam's rushed explanations about their current situation, tried to concentrate on the street in front of him but his gaze eventually travelled back to Caleb and his thoughts starting to drift.

This was wrong. This whole situation was just not right. Caleb couldn't be this hurt.

For the first time the whole extent of the situation hit home. They didn't know what had been out there in the woods. They didn't know what kind of poison it was that was wreaking havoc in Reaves's system – hell they didn't even know if it was really some kind of poison that was smeared on the arrow. Though nothing else would explain Caleb's rapidly worsening condition.

Dean tightened his grip around the steering-wheel. At this moment he felt so damn helpless and alone. There had to be something they could do. A hurt Caleb he could handle, but this? He hadn't even a clue where to start.

A hand on his shoulder tore him out of his dark thoughts.

"Dean, Pastor Jim wants to talk to you." Sam's soft voice loud in the silence of the car.

Dean took the cellphone while guiding the car one-handed down the dark road. The rain had picked up, the wipers barely able to clear the windshield.

"Dean, boy, are you alright? Samuel told me about the second attack. You're really not hurt?" The Guardian's words full of concern. Dean could easily picture the pastor pacing up and down the kitchen of the farm.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's Damien who got hit by an arrow not me." A low moan from the back made him flooring the gas pedal even more.

"Is it really some kind of poison we're dealing with here?" Dean still could hear a light sliver of hope in Jim's voice. Hope that all of this was just a bad reaction to the wound and nothing more.

"We don't know but Damien's pretty certain about it. He thinks it's some kind of supernatural stuff. Maybe even spellwork. But like I said – we don't know yet for sure."

"I was afraid to hear that. And you really don't know what could have attacked you out there?" The pastor sighed, probably running a hand through his hair.

"If you had asked me that two hours ago I would have said we're hunting a Wendigo but now I have no damn clue what's out there in the woods, killing all those people and apparently firing arrows at us." The frustration and panic was back, boiling in his chest.

"Dean, you need to calm down. We will figure this out I promise." A small pause. "How is Caleb? Samuel also told me that you are disagreeing in taking him to a hospital."

Dean felt a headache slowly starting behind his temples. "Not good Jim. But it's not the wound I'm worried about. I guess we got that one under control so far." A quick glance in the mirror showed Dean Sam's mouth slightly open in a silent protest. "I'm more worried about the stuff that's coursing through his system. And no hospital, Damien was pretty clear on that one and I agree. I mean, if this is really something supernatural related a hospital wouldn't be much of a help would it?"

"Dean." Sam hissed behind him, not able to hold his protest back any longer.

Dean ignored his little brother and refocused his eyes back on the road.

"I really don't like this and I'm sure Mackland will not be happy about this decision either but I'm agreeing with you. Did you already clean the wound with holy water?"

"No we haven't have time for that so far." Dean felt a sudden sharp pain running through his left arm, his hand shook lightly. He stretched his fingers slowly before gripping the steering-wheel tightly again.

"Good, do that immediately when the three of you are back at the motel. If there is no reaction I want you to take Caleb to a hospital, you hear me? The same goes for should his condition gets any worse, you understand me, Dean?"

Dean knew an order when he heard one even when it was hidden beneath calm, even words.

"Yes, I get that." Dean swallowed hard past the lump that had suddenly formed inside his throat. "Jim, have you heard anything from Dad or Mac lately?" Damn, he sounded like a frigging kid again.

"No. Not for the last two days at least. Though Jonathon had said something about poor service and being out of reach for a few days. But I'm trying to get a hold of them. You're still in Oregon? Briar Creek, right?" Dean could make out movement in the background of the line.

"Yeah, we're still here." The younger hunter's attention turned back to Caleb who again shifted restlessly in the backseat.

"Okay, listen, my boy, I have to check some things here but I will be in Briar Creek by early morning. You can hold your own there for that long?" Dean heard more movement on the other end of the phone.

He wanted to say no. Wanted not to be in charge of the situation at hand but he just nodded though he knew the pastor couldn't see it.

"Yeah, we'll be alright until then." He threw a quick glance into the rear-view mirror, catching Sam's questioning gaze there.

"It's going to be okay, Dean, I promise we'll figure this out. Just have faith, boy. And call me if something changes. " The pastor assured warmly and hell, Dean really wanted to believe that.

"Yeah. Bye Jim." The middle Winchester mumbled, ended the call and shoved the cell back into his pocket.

"Dean, what the hell…?" Sam snapped.

"Jim will be here in the morning. He also tries to reach Dad and Mac." Dean informed his still fuming brother.

"Dean nothing about the wound is okay. Okay, the bleeding has slowed but we can't be sure that there's not some internal damage."

"Sam…" Dean said wearily, his right hand rubbing unconsciously over his left arm, soothing the small cramp that had started there. "Pastor Jim said we should clean the wound with holy water. If this stuff goes apeshit we sit this one out at the motel. But if nothing happens we drive to the closest ER ASAP, okay?"

It was the closest thing he could offer as a peace offering.

He knew Sam was as worried about Caleb as he was so he couldn't blame the kid for playing momma bear though it was slowly but surely getting old to be treated as the enemy here.

"Okay, Sammy?" He asked again when his brother didn't answer.

The youngest Winchester sighed, his gaze going back to Caleb's fitful sleeping form.

"Okay." The kid eventually agreed in a soft voice. Again Dean could see Sam de-aging in front of his eyes, becoming the lost child again.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy. Damien's gonna be fine. You know him, stubborn as hell. He'll beat this crap – whatever it is." Dean assured confidently. He couldn't say who his words should reassure more – Sammy or him.

Through the curtain of rain he could make out lights on the horizon. Maybe five more minutes and they were back at the motel.

_**ooooooo**_

"Come on Damien, a little help here would be great." Dean groaned while dragging a semi-conscious Caleb through the still pouring rain into their motel room.

Sam had already opened the door and was now helping his brother to get the hurt psychic inside.

Caleb groaned in pain, his head had come to a rest on his chest, his pale face hidden by his way too long hair.

Together they settled the psychic on the bed furthest from the door. Caleb didn't show any reaction at all which really worried Dean.

He ran a hand through his still damp short hair, tried desperately to calm his racing thoughts. One problem at a time.

Dean exhaled slowly and focused his gaze on Sam who was hastily rifling through their bags in search for the first-aid kit.

Sam's clothes were still soaked to the skin. Come to think about it – they all were still soaked. An involuntary shiver ran through Dean's body and re-woke the gash on his arm.

Absently he stretched and flexed his fingers to ease the sudden pain.

"Sammy go get changed before you catch a cold or god knows what else. You're soaked." Dean said, his big-brother-instincts kicking in full force.

"Dean, it's okay. We have to take care of Caleb first and you need help if you want to clean the wound with holy water." Sam said, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering.

"Come on, Sammy, I can see the shivers from here so don't be stupid." He said gently and took the first-aid kit out of the boy's hands, briefly squeezing his arm in a reassuring manner.

With a serious look on his face Dean added "Besides, I can't deal with both of you down for the count."

"Dean…"

"Because dealing with you sick and cranky and bitching is a fulltime job as it is." Dean grinned and went back to the bed where Reaves shifted slightly. "So you better hurry."

Sam only rolled his eyes and went with a pile of dry cloths into the bathroom. "You're unbelievable." He muttered under his breath before shutting the door.

Eventually alone in the room Dean's grin faded quickly. A concerned frown appeared on his face as he eyed his best friend closely.

Caleb seemed even paler than before, the fevered flush on his cheeks stood in a stark contrast to it. Sweat plastered strands of his hair to his face but they couldn't hide the pain lines which were visible even in sleep.

Dean swallowed hard. God he wished his Dad were here. Or Mac, or Jim, or Bobby, or – anyone.

He shook his head slightly. Hell, what was wrong with him? He had to get a grip for god's sake. He couldn't let Damien down and him freaking out wouldn't help Sammy either.

Caleb moaned softly, his eyes moving rapidly under closed lids.

Dean slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand gently slapping the older man's cheek. He cringed at the warmth that was seeping into his palm.

"Come on, Damien, nap time is over." Dean said but got no reaction. He tried it again, harder this time. "It's time to wake up, Caleb. Come one, man, this is so not cool." God, he felt like ten again. But this time he got the reaction he had hoped for – Reaves's eyes fluttered lightly before opening to mere glassy slits.

"Hey, you with me Caleb?" Dean watched the unfocused amber eyes roaming through the room, trying to make sense of everything, and finally coming to a rest on him.

Caleb sluggishly blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. "Deuce?"

"The one and only." Dean grinned, relieved to see the psychic awake.

"W-whr?" Reaves's eyes drifted through the room again though Dean doubted that he was really seeing something. " 'spital?" He got even more agitated.

"Whoa there, Damien." Dean placed a hand on Caleb's chest to keep him from bolting upright. Okay, so maybe not so awake then.

"It's okay, Caleb calm down. We're back at the motel. You fainted during the ride home." He saw his words slowly sinking in, felt the psychic relax beneath his hand. Dean waited for a smart-ass remark about the fainting-part but nothing came.

"Caleb, we have to clean the wound. And I think it needs stitches." Dean carefully lifted the damp shirt. The gauze was bloody but it seemed that the bleeding had slowed.

Reaves nodded slightly, his eyes barely open and fixed on something only he could see.

"G-get it … out. 's burning… H-hurts…"

The knot in Dean's gut twisted painfully. Concern and fear battled for the upper hand inside his chest. He had never seen the older hunter this vulnerable before and it scared him.

"Easy. It's okay. I'll take care of it but you have to calm down, okay?" Dean soothed. For a second time he felt Caleb relax underneath his hands.

As carefully as possible he removed the bandages.

The wound was ragged and angry looking. The bleeding had slowed to a sluggish trickle but it still needed a few stitches to fully stop it.

Dean fished the Peroxide and new gauze out of the kit.

His left hand shook slightly, the pain the gash was causing slowly increased. He pushed the pain into a far corner of his mind. He would clean it later.

_**ooooooo**_

Dean was through the second round of cleaning the wound with Peroxide when Sam emerged from the bathroom.

The middle Winchester cast a quick glance to Caleb whose eyes were closed again, though Dean could tell that he wasn't sleeping or hadn't passed out yet.

"How is he?" Sam came to a stand next to Dean, his gaze locked on the psychic's pale face.

Dean looked at his brother before refocusing on the task at hand. "Same as before. Can you get the holy water from the duffel?"

Tiredly he rubbed a hand over his face. He so didn't want to do this.

A frown appeared on Sam's brow. "Dean, you're bleeding." He grabbed for his brother's arm to get a better look at the wound but Dean stopped him mid-motion.

"It's okay. It's just a scratch. Probably some stupid branch that grazed me on the way back out."

Sam didn't seem convinced. The frown on his forehead deepened. "But this looks deeper than just a branch that grazed you."

"Sammy, come on, it's nothing, just a stupid scratch. I'll take care of it in a bit. Can we please focus back on Caleb now? I'd prefer to be done with this. I'm still wet and cold and I just want to hit the shower." He knew it was a low blow but it was also a tactic that always worked.

"Sure." Sam nodded and went for the flask of holy water. Dean didn't miss the lost puppy look on his face. Damn.

"Sammy…" He didn't know what to say exactly. Sam wasn't a kid anymore. A few nice words and a hug wouldn't be enough to make it all better anymore.

Sam showed Dean a shaky smile. At this moment he looked so much younger than his fifteen years. Maybe to just be Captain One-helluva Big Brother would still be enough to make things at least a little better.

Sam sighed and sat down on Reaves's other side, one hand gently placing on the older hunter's forehead. He cringed at the warmth he felt.

"Dean, we need to get the fever down." Sam said alarmed.

"Yeah, but one problem at a time." Dean took the flask Sam handed to him and unscrewed it. "First we need to take care of this." He shook his best friend's shoulder. Reaves's eyes fluttered slightly before they opened to mere glassy slits of amber. "Hey, you with us?"

Caleb blinked a few times to clear his bleary vision though it didn't look like it worked well.

"Caleb can you hear us?" Sam asked worriedly, one hand squeezing the older hunter's shoulder lightly.

"Loud … an' c-clearly, 'specially when … y' practically … yell into … m-my ear." Reaves's mumbled hoarsely and blinked again. His lids seemed to weight tons.

Sam grinned sheepishly and squeezed Caleb's shoulder again. "Anything that works."

"Damien, listen, we need to clean the wound with holy water. If this is really some kind of supernatural shit it's not going to be fun." Dean said seriously.

"J-jus' get it … done. C-can't … get much …. w-worse than this." Reaves's pressed out through gritted teeth, his eyes closing again.

Dean nodded slightly, his eyes locking with Sam's. "Hold him down. Like I said, if this is some supernatural crap …" He tightened his grip around the flask.

Sam moved behind Caleb, his hands tightening their hold on the older hunter's shoulders.

Dean exhaled slowly and then dosed the arrow wound with holy water.

The reaction was instantly, the holy water acting like pure acid.

Reaves's back arched from the bed, his legs kicking out in a desperate try to get up.

"Sam, hold him down!" Dean swore. He had a hard time doing the same with the psychic's legs.

Reaves's yaw clenched shut tightly in an attempt to suppress a scream. His body rigid with pain.

"Damnit, Caleb breathe!" Dean yelled emphatically, his own panic audible in his voice. He shared a quick glance with Sam, not liking the kid's huge eyes.

Ever so slowly the reaction of the holy water subsided and Reaves relaxed back onto the bed. His breathing coming in long ragged gulps of air, his face even paler than before, eyes clenched shut. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead and temples.

Sam let out a shaky breath and loosened his hold on Caleb's shoulders a little. "Guess you were right about the poison."

Dean eyed his little brother for a brief moment, silently asking if he was okay.

Sam nodded slightly, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Damien, you still with us?"

"That was … fun…" Reaves's gasped, his face a mask of pain.

"You know we're not done yet, don't you?" Dean ran a hand through his short hair, still trying to calm his racing heart.

The psychic nodded, preparing himself for the next round of agony.

"Sammy, you ready?"

The boy tightened his hold again. "Think so." He didn't sound convinced.

"One more time then we're done." Dean couldn't say who he tried to reassure. He so didn't want to do this. Hurting his best friend more than he was already. But it had to be done. And the holy water would hopefully slow down the spreading of the poison.

The reaction was still the same except that this time Caleb couldn't hold back a scream.

The pure agony in his friend's voice made Dean's blood ran cold.

"Come on, Damien, it's okay. It's going to be okay." The middle Winchester's words a mumbled mantra of soothing nonsense.

Suddenly Reaves's body went limp, relaxing back onto the bed and into Sam's arms.

"Dean?" Sam's wide eyes went from Caleb to his brother, his voice shaky with fear.

"It's okay. It's probably the best for him. At least he's not feeling the pain anymore." Dean said calmly. He tried his best to ignore the slowly blossoming panic inside his chest. Damn, they needed help. Real help. Not somebody on the phone.

"Sammy, can you call Jim again? Tell him that we used the holy water. And ask him if he had heard something from Dad so far." Dean angled for the first-aid kit again but never taking his eyes of his brother's face.

Sam nodded but didn't move. His gaze still rested on the psychic's lax features.

"Sam!" Dean said louder this time, more forcefully. It got the wanted reaction. Sam flinched slightly, his eyes finally meeting Dean's.

"Call Jim again, okay? I'll take care of the rest here." The middle Winchester repeated. He held his brother's gaze a moment longer, watched him nodding and crawling from the bed.

Dean sighed softly and rubbed a hand over his forehead. A headache slowly started pounding behind his eyes.

"Shit, Damien, hang in there, okay?" He mumbled softly.

_**ooooooo**_

John Winchester slowly slid behind the steering-wheel of his truck, successfully ignoring the many pains and aches which were spread all over his body.

God this hunt was fucked up from the get go. Sure, they got the damn Shtriga in the end but its death came still too late for a few of the kids.

He threw a quick side-glance to Mac who was pinching the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. His eyes were closed and a concerned frown slowly deepened on his brow.

"Mac? You okay?" John squeezed his friend's arm slightly to get his attention.

Mac's head shot up with a startled gasp.

"Whoa, there, tiger." Winchester eyed him concerned. "You okay?"

Mac blinked a few times and cleared his throat. "I don't know." The Scholar frowned. "I…" Mac's gaze got distant again.

"Damn it, Mac, don't you dare zoning out on me." John shook his friend roughly. "Come on, talk to me. What's wrong? Do I need to search for the next ER?"

Mac eyed the other hunter with wide eyes. "John, I … I think something's wrong with Caleb. I think he's hurt."

"What?" John asked shocked. "Did you …" Whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sudden ringing of his cellphone.

_**oooooo**_

TBC…

Thanks for reading! And reviews feed me muse! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack! Finally! *grins* (And it's my second anniversary here on FF.N *beams*)

What can I say? There is no excuse for this ridiculously long delay in posting. RL and work had me in a tight grasp without any real free time and my Muse was kind of on vacation without me. But here I am. Finally. (I really will try to do better next time but I can't promise anything, except that I _will _update … eventually)

A/N: My hugest thanks to all of you, who have reviewed, favorited, alerted and read and still believed in this story despite the long wait for an update. All of it means the world to me!

A/N: Also a special thanks to Ridley C. James for her support, encouragement and believe in this story. And to Montez for kicking my virtual butt. :) I hope you'll like this chapter.

A/N: Thanks and praises to my awesome beta Enkidu07! Honey, you're amazing, you know that! ;) *smishes*

**Disclaimer:** see Chapter one

A/N: I borrowed some references and memories from Ridley's story "All Is Well".

Okay, enough of my ramblings! Have fun reading and please let me know what you think. *kicked puppy dog eyes* =)

_Previously__: Mac eyed the other hunter with wide eyes. "John, I … I think something's wrong with Caleb. I think he's hurt."_

"_What?" John asked shocked. "Did you …" Whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sudden ringing of his cellphone. _

Chapter 3

My best friend gave me the best advice  
He said each day's a gift and not a given right  
Leave no stone unturned, Leave your fears behind  
And try to take the path less traveled by  
That first step you take is the longest stride

If Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback

**ooooooooooo**

Darkness. Fear. Pain. Screams.

_Deuce!_

Caleb's eyes snapped open, his mind not comprehending where he was or what had happened. He was hot, his damp t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Every inch of his body seemed to hurt, though the worst pain was still coming from his side.

But all that didn't matter. Something was wrong with Dean. He needed to find him, help him. The need to protect his best friend almost overwhelming.

"Caleb?" The voice sounded familiar. He tried to focus on the blurred figure which suddenly appeared in his line of sight.

"Deuce?" His voice hoarse from disuse and screaming. Caleb shifted, pulling at the blanket that covered him.

"No, it's me – Sam. You with me?" Caleb felt Sam's hand on his forehead before it was replaced by a cool cloth. He blinked slowly, the earlier adrenalin rush quickly vanishing, leaving only exhaustion and pain. He couldn't remember a time he had felt this miserable.

"Where's … Dean?" He needed to know. Sam's presence took some of his panic, but not all of it. Something was wrong. It was the only clear thought in his otherwise muddled brain.

Caleb tried to reach out for Dean.

Lightheadedness washed over him. The pounding in his head intensified to almost head-splitting levels, his vision dimmed.

"Caleb? Caleb! Hey, can you hear me?" Sam's voice sounded far away and scared.

The older hunter groaned. Damn, the poison was fucking with his abilities.

Caleb blinked again, needing a moment to focus, though his vision was a little clearer this time. He was in their motel room. The warm light of the nightstand lamp casted the room in shadows but it illuminated the younger Winchester's face, the teen's eyes full of concern and fear.

He had to get a grip. Caleb didn't need his abilities to know that he was scaring John's boys. But it was hard to concentrate on anything else but the pain.

"You with me now?" Sam frowned, his worried gaze lingering on Reaves's face. Without waiting for an answer he added "Dean's taking a shower. Should I get him?"

Caleb ran his tongue over chapped lips, slightly shaking his head. "No. He … okay?"

Sam's frown deepened. "Yeah, he is fine." He gave Caleb's arm a reassuring squeeze. "It was just a nightmare, Caleb. Everything is going to be alright. We will fix this."

"I know." Caleb mumbled, his exhausted body too drained to fight the pull of sleep any longer.

Sam watched as Caleb once again succumbed to unconsciousness. The tight knot in his stomach twisted painfully. They needed to do something.

Casting one last glance at the other hunter, Sam got up and went back to his vacated spot at the table. Notes, newspaper articles and books were scattered all over the tabletop.

They had missed something. There had to be a clue somewhere of what was out there in the woods.

Sam ran a hand over his face and through his hair. It was the proverbial needle in a haystack. Everything was pointing to a Wendigo but he doubted that these things were using bows and arrows lately.

Memories of another Wendigo-hunt floated into the teen's mind. Though two years ago they had been sure they had lost Caleb forever.

Sam shuddered. The news of Caleb's death had sucker-punched every single one of them but he had never seen his brother like that before. Dean hadn't been Dean anymore.

_We haven't lost everything until we lose hope. _Sam heard Pastor Jim's words echo through his mind.

It was true.

"We just need some faith," Sam mumbled. He didn't give up on Caleb then and he wouldn't do it now. They were missing something, he was sure of it.

He focused back on the notes in front of him, absently chewing on his thumbnail.

The room was quiet. The silence only interrupted by Caleb's labored breathing and the running of the shower.

Sam shifted, his gaze wandering to the closed bathroom door. His brother had been in there for an unusually long time.

Sam remembered Caleb's questions about Dean. He felt his gut clench.

**oooooooooooo**

Steam covered the small bathroom and fogged the mirror, the shower still on full blast. It would cover any involuntary noises.

Dean stared at his blurry, pale reflection. He was only wearying a towel, his hair still dripping wet.

The hunter's gaze went back to the cut on his left upper arm. The wound had re-opened during his shower. His eyes traced the small watery rivulet of blood that slowly ran down his skin.

It was deeper than he liked but at least it didn't need stitches.

Exhaling deeply, Dean started to clean the cut with Peroxide, his mind working on autopilot.

He gritted his teeth against the painful sting though the interesting part was still to come.  
The older Winchester's gaze shifted to the holy water flask on top of his cloths.

The arrow had only nicked him. Maybe there hadn't been enough time for the poison to sink in.

_Yeah, well, wishful thinking and all. _

Taking another deep breathe Dean grabbed for the silvery flask, the metal cool in his hand.

Shielding himself against a possible assault of pain he poured the holy water over the cut.

Dean wasn't prepared for the sudden seizing pain that exploded in his arm and the resulting shockwaves that radiated through the rest of his body.

He gasped, his white-knuckled grip on the sink the only thing that kept his knees from hitting the cold, hard tiles.

Bile was starting to rise in the back of his throat. His head pounded in time to his fast heartbeat.

"Fuck," Dean panted through gritted teeth. Screw blood poisoning or infection. He had a whole new problem here.

_Okay, so Damien's not the only one who could use some of the antidote… Great…_

The nineteen-year-old wiped cold sweat away from his brow, ignoring the slight shaking of his hand.

"Suck it up." Dean repeated the patented John Winchester mantra softly_. _

It took another ten minutes before Dean finally emerged from the bathroom together with a cloud of steam.

"I take that we don't have any hot water left?" Sam looked up from his research, watching Dean making his way to Caleb's bed.

"Why? You think about a second shower, Samantha?" Dean grabbed the warm facecloth. Even in sleep, pain lines were obvious on the older hunter's face.

Sam made a face but otherwise ignored Dean's comment. "Caleb woke up."

"He say anything?" Dean shot his brother a questioning look before focusing back on his best friend.

"I think he had a nightmare. He asked for you." Sam chewed at his thumbnail, a nervous habit Dean had been trying to wean the kid off for years.

"Anything else?" Dean knew the look on his brother's face. There was more than Sam was telling him. No more bad news, he hoped. They had enough of that already.

Caleb moved restlessly, mumbling something the younger hunter couldn't understand. Dean rested his hand against the psychic's forehead, feeling the heat seeping into his palm.  
He let his hand rest there a minute longer, hoping to offer some comfort, before replacing it with the rewetted cloth.

_Hang in there, Damien. _

"You okay?" Sam's question caught Dean by surprise.

"Peachy." He stood up, heading for the coffee maker in the small kitchenette. Nothing was fine. He really hoped Jim, or better yet, Mac and Dad, would show up soon.

A cramp ran through Dean's left arm and up his shoulder. He cursed silently but kept his face blank. The last thing he wanted was to worry his brother even more.

"Any news from Jim?" Dean knew he was changing the subject and he could see that Sam knew it too. Though the kid was smart enough not mention it.

"I told him about the holy water. He said he will check some journals in the Tomb, call some people. He'll try to catch the next flight here, though it's probably still going to be morning." Sam's fingers absently traced the outlines of one of the books on the table, his expression lost.

Dean eyed him closely. It was almost funny to see how quickly Sam could change from bitching teenager back to little Sammy. The kid that would dump his broken toy in front of Dean's feet convinced that his big brother could fix everything.

"Anything from Dad or Mac?" Together with a steaming hot coffee cup Dean made his way back to the table, sitting down in the chair opposite Sam.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. But Pastor Jim said we shouldn't give up hope."

Dean snorted and downed half of the coffee in one gulp. He glanced back to Caleb who was once again moving restlessly on the bed, moaning softly. The knot in the younger hunter's stomach tightened.

Sam followed his gaze. "I still think we should take him to a hospital."

"Sam." The older Winchester growled warningly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Hopefully the Tylenol he had swallowed would help against the slowly worsening headache.

The teen showed him his patented bitchface but kept quiet.

"You found anything yet? Something we have missed?" Dean nodded to the haphazardly scattered notes in front of his brother.

"Maybe." Sam blew out a breath, brushing too long bangs out of his eyes. The kid really needed a haircut.

"Maybe? A little cryptic, don't you think, Einstein?"

"I'm not really sure what it means."

Dean raised a brow. "Humor me. I mean, you do have noticed that we really don't have time for twenty-questions now, right?" He shot a quick glance to the unconscious hunter on the bed, before focusing back on his brother.

"Something seems off with the periods of time when people went missing," Sam began, now completely in research-mode. "Wendigos hibernate, which means they collect their prey and then sleep for … don't know, ten years or more."

Dean shuddered. He remembered the last time he and his brother had this kind of conversation. At the time he had been sure that Damien was dead. "Right, though I'm hearing a big _but_ coming."

Sam nodded. "But apparently this one's not hibernating. I checked the dates again. Something's totally off with them. All people went missing over short periods of time."

"That's a start. But that doesn't really lead us to anything specific." Panic seized through Dean's chest. How could they have missed that?

"There is more," Sam added, handing Dean a list with scribbled names and dates. "There is a pattern nevertheless. Over the last two years, two or three people went missing a month, all of them hikers. And they weren't locals so no one would miss them for a while."

Never underestimate Sam's researching skills. Even at thirteen the kid had proven that already.

"Okay, so it is really not a Wendigo."

_Which leaves only hundreds of other possibilities_. _How could we have missed the pattern? _

"Yeah, but this is not really helping us. We still don't know what it is and the library's not open for another few hours, so the research has to wait too," the fifteen-year-old said wearily, running a hand over his face.

Dean agreed. "But it's a start. We need to search for something that happened shortly before the first person went missing. Maybe that could be a clue of what we're searching for." He stood, empty cup in hand. His gaze wandered back to the fitfully sleeping psychic.

He needed to fix this before it could get any worse, before the poison affected him too.

"Dean." The nineteen-year-old turned his head, meeting his brother's guilt-ridden gaze. "How could we have missed this? The pattern is obvious. Why didn't I see it before?" There was a desperate edge to the tone.

"Sammy, that's bull. We thought it was a Wendigo from the get go. There had been no need to double-check the individual dates." A rookie-mistake for which Caleb paid the price now.

"But –"

"No buts. What's done is done. Now we need to fix it. Damien is not running out on us. " Dean paused, his Big-Brother-Instincts working on overdrive. Chick-flick be damned.

He squeezed the teen's shoulder reassuringly, a grin tugging at his lips. "'sides, weren't you the one who gave me the 'We just need some faith'-speech a few minutes ago, geek boy?"

Nodding, Sam exhaled softly. The lost-puppy-in-the-rain-look vanished some.

"We will fix this," Dean emphasized, giving Sam's shoulder another squeeze, before removing his touch.

The cold knot of dread inside his gut twisted painfully. He didn't know who he wanted to reassure more – Sam or himself.

**oooooooooo **

John didn't take his eyes off the other hunter while fishing his cell phone out of his pocket.

His stomach clenched as he saw the caller ID.

"Jim?" Despite the poor light inside the car he saw Mac's eyes widening. The Scholar's last words still hanging heavily in the air.

"Jonathan, thank god! I have been trying to reach you for hours." Alarm bells shrilled inside John's head. Jim's normally calm voice sounded worried, which was never a good sign.

"We just finished the Job. Jim what's wrong?"

"Jonathan, I need you and Mackland to hurry back to Briar Creek. A hunt went wrong, and –"

"Whoa, wait, a hunt? What the hell, Jim?" John interrupted him loudly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Are the boys alright? What the hell happened?"

He felt Mac's eyes on him.

"As far as I know Samuel, Dean and Caleb were hunting a Wendigo not far from where they are staying. But –"

"They were what?" John boomed dumbfounded, interrupting the Pastor once again. Caleb and Dean hunting without him knowing was bad but bringing Sammy along with them to hunt down a fucking Wendigo was irresponsible and reckless.

Mackland straightened in the seat next to him, his grey eyes tracing every of John's movements.

"John, what's going on?" The concern and fear in the Scholar's voice was palpable.

"Jonathan please calm down and listen. We don't have much time." The urgency in the Guardian's normally so calm voice made his blood run cold. He felt the icy weight in the pit of his stomach growing.

John exhaled slowly. "Okay, Jim, shoot."

"Apparently the Wendigo was not a Wendigo. Something shot at them with poisonous arrows. The poison is reacting to holy water." The pastor paused. "One arrow hit Caleb. "

John briefly closed his eyes. There were the words he had dreaded to hear.

"How bad?" His gaze met Mac's.

"Is it Caleb?" The Doctor said softly, the fearful undertone more pronounced.

John nodded slightly, running a hand over his beard and through his hair.

"Let me talk to Jim." Mac reached out a hand for the phone.

"In a sec," John mouthed quietly, focusing his attention back on Jim.

"The arrow hit his side though it was not a through and through. It seems that they have the bleeding under control." John could practically see the Pastor pacing through his kitchen.

"I take that as a 'no hospital'." John groaned inwardly. This situation was getting more complicated by the minute. Leave it to his boys to end up ass-deep in trouble.

"I agreed with Dean as long as Caleb's condition stays stable. It is the poison I am more worried about. Especially now that it seems like we have to deal with some kind of spell work."

"And we don't have a clue of what it is or who or what exactly we are hunting, right? Great." John swore frustrated.

"You need to get back to Briar Creek. I will be there by morning too. I want to check some journals first, talk to Missouri. I –" Jim hesitated for a second. "I don't know how long our boy can hold on."

The words were calm but the gravity behind them made John's heart beat faster.

"We're on our way." He handed Mac the cell phone, gunning the engine and flooring the gas pedal.

**oooooooooooo**

Dean was pacing the room like a tiger in a cage that was too small, seeking for a way to get out.

He was never good at this whole sitting and waiting stuff. He needed to do something to help Caleb, not getting eaten up by the feeling of complete helplessness.

Caleb's sleep had grown more fitful over the last hour, the pained whimpers and moans more pronounced.

Dean bit his lip and started his next round through the small room, his fingers clenched tightly around the cell phone. There was still no sign of Dad or Mac.

He heard Sam sigh loudly.

Dean knew his pacing unnerved his brother to no end, but the kid was smart enough to keep quiet.

After their last call with Jim, Sam had stubbornly continued searching through their notes in the hope to maybe find some more clues of what was out there in the woods. Dean knew it was a pointless search as long as they couldn't get new information from the library but it kept Sam's mind occupied.

Caleb moaned and curled more into himself, one hand fisted into the blanket.

Dean suddenly stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes never leaving his best friend.

He'd had enough. Stupid move be damned but he couldn't watch Caleb suffer any longer without doing something about it.

Determinately, the older Winchester crouched down in front of their weapons duffle. Taking one of the guns out he checked the clip. Silver bullets may not kill that thing but he was sure it would hurt like hell.

He ignored the stab of pain that trickled down his left arm, caused his hand to tremble slightly.

"Dean? What are you doing?"

Dean glanced up, meeting his brother's questioning and concerned eyes. The teen looked tired.

"I'm sick of waiting. I'm sure I can find this fucker." Den shoved the clip back into the Glock, checking the safety, before sliding it in the back of his jeans.

"You what?" Sam stared at him incredulously. "Are you nuts? We don't know anything about this thing except what Caleb told us and that it is pretty damn dangerous. We have to wait until help arrives." Sam moved to the edge of his chair, facing Dean completely now.

"Yeah, and while we wait this shit will wreak havoc. No thanks, I'd rather take the risk. I can't watch him suffer any longer." Dean stood, determination in his movements.

Anger flashed in Sam's eyes. "This is suicide. The last thing we need on top of everything else is you getting kidnapped or killed."

"Only if it gets me first. And I'm fast, you know that." The older Winchester grinned cockily. He tried to ignore the tight knot of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Something in Sam changed, his anger suddenly gone. "Dean, you can't leave. Caleb needs you here."

Dean snorted, giving Sam a long look. "What Damien needs is a fucking antidote, not me holding hands and triggering one chick-flick moment after the other." His gaze flickered to Caleb. The psychic shifted slightly, pain lines evident on his pale face.

Dean didn't want to leave but he couldn't see any other way. He rubbed a hand absently over his throbbing arm.

"But I need you. I don't wanna be here alone. I - I'm scared, Dean." Sam didn't meet his eyes, the words soft and hesitating.

"Sammy…"Dean briefly closed his eyes, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. It was a low blow and it worked. It always worked. Damn it. Though Dean knew that it didn't make Sam's words any less true.

The nineteen-year-old crouched down in front of Sam, searching his brother's desperate gaze. "It's okay, Sammy. I'll stay." He squeezed the teen's knee, then grinned. "We will fix this, you'll see. Damien will probably be giving us hell for all the worrying and hovering in no time. Just –" Dean's words were interrupted by Caleb's sudden outcry.

"No," Caleb gasped, head lolling from side to side, his dark hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

"Damien." Dean was up and at the psychic's side in an instant, Sam close on his heels. "Hey, can you hear me? Come on, man, wake up!" The older Winchester shook him not too gently. He could feel the heat radiating off Caleb.

The older hunter got more agitated, his tossing and turning increased. His pale face screwed up in pain. His breathing labored and way too fast.

"No…" The one word choked and terrified.

"Caleb, wake up!" Fear colored Sam's voice. Dean shot his brother a quick glance before looking back to Caleb.

"Damien snap out of it, damn it!" Dean shook him again, using his best John Winchester imitation.

It worked.

Caleb woke with a start, his eyes wide and unfocused. Dean winced at the raw pain he could see there.

"Easy. Take it easy, man." The younger hunter gently placed a restraining hand on the psychic's chest, keeping him from bolting upright. "It's okay. It was only a dream." Dean soothed, resting his other hand on Caleb's head. He ignored his own growing fear that blossomed inside his chest.

Glassy amber eyes met Dean's. Caleb shook his head, getting more agitated.

"N-no… you … there was something … evil. It … it hurt you … bad. I couldn't…" Caleb groaned, pressing one hand on the wound in his side.

"Easy." Dean gently pushed him back into the pillow. He could feel the frantic heartbeat underneath his palm. "There is nothing here but you, me and Sammy. And I'm fine, dude." He grinned forcefully.

"No… we … we have to…" Caleb's brow furrowed in pain, his breathing ragged and shallow.

"Take it easy, Damien. There is nothing here. It's just the fever. Calm down." Dean reassured calmly, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. His gaze locking with Sam's for a moment.

"Caleb, everything's okay. We're fine." Sam said, squeezing the older man's arm.

"No!" Caleb exclaimed, trying to sit up despite Dean's restraining hand, groaning. "It's out there … It'll kill you… I … I couldn't help…"

"Caleb, listen to me," Dean said sternly, hoping to finally cut through the fever induced delirium that still had the older hunter in a tight grasp. He pushed Caleb back, not wanting to think about how easy it was. "Nobody is here but us. I'm fine and so is Sammy. This was one hell of a nightmare but nothing else. You hear me?" He emphasized, seeing the first spark of recognition in the other man's gaze.

Fever bright golden eyes finally focused on Dean for the first time.

"Deuce?"

Dean grinned relieved. "Who else?"

"You with us now?" Sam's voice mirrored the same relief as his brother's.

Caleb frowned, battling to keep his eyes open. Dean saw more pain lines appear on his friend's pale face, the only color coming from his flushed cheeks. His breathing still too quick.

"Dream?" The frown deepened, sweat ran down his forehead and temples.

"Yeah, it was only a dream." Dean suddenly grinned. "Should I get worried that you are dreaming of me instead of a hot blonde?"

Sam rolled his eyes, shooting his brother an incredulous look before handing him an open water bottle. But it had the effect Dean had hoped for.

Caleb smiled faintly, forcing his eyes open once more. "Shut up … Deuce." His breath suddenly hitched, his eyes clenched shut tightly.

"Easy."Dean squeezed his shoulder. "Here, you need to drink something. The fever is dehydrating you."

After a couple of sips Caleb weakly pushed Dean's hand away. "Enough," he mumbled, his eyes closing on their own accord but he forced them open nevertheless.

"It's okay, man. Go back to sleep."

Caleb shook his head, blinking. "Not tired." He smiled weakly. "And sleep's … overrated anyway." His words started to run together.

The older Winchester forced a grin. "Thank god for coffee, right?" He had a pretty good idea why Caleb was fighting sleep. Dean really wished he could take the dreams away. "It's okay. I have your back, Damien. I'll wake you." He grabbed the warm rag that had slipped from Reaves's forehead and re-wetted it in the bowl on the nightstand.

"We're here, Caleb. It's going to be okay." Sam said confidently. The innocent hope that Dean could fix everything more than obvious in the teen's gaze.

Dean watched Caleb losing his fight against sleep, the older man's eyes stayed shut for longer periods of time. He placed the re-wetted cloth back on the psychic's forehead.

Sighing, Dean let his hand slide through Caleb's hair, before removing his touch all together.

_We'll fix this. Just hang in there. _

"Shit." The older Winchester ran a hand over his face and through his short hair.

It was wrong. This whole fucking situation was just wrong. It scared him to see Caleb like this. Sure he had seen his friend hurt or sick before but this right now was something completely different.

He felt like he was ten again, helpless and at a loss of what to do. And there was this nagging little voice deep inside his head that reminded him that if they couldn't find an antidote or god-knows-what soon, Caleb could die.

"What now?" Sam's small voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts, his pounding heart calmed a little.

Dean glanced up to his brother who was standing in front of him. "Waiting, I guess. And you should get some sleep, Sammy. We still have a couple of hours left before Jim arrives." He saw protest built inside Sam but the ringing of his cell phone stopped any possible outbreak.

Dean's heart picked up speed when he saw the caller ID.

"Dad!" His shoulders sagged with relief. The cavalry was coming.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" John was fuming. "I gave you straight orders to stay in that fucking motel room and watch your brother! I'm pretty sure I said nothing about a hunt, especially not about a fucking Wendigo. What the hell were you thinking? "

The relief Dean felt was dimming. He was sure when this was over they would be in for a world of trouble, probably running maneuvers until summer.

"Dad, I'm sorry. This didn't go as planned. We –"

"I don't want excuses." John interrupted him sharply.

"Dad…" The younger hunter straightened though he knew his father couldn't see it.

"Not now. But don't think that this is over yet, Dean." The oldest Winchester silenced him again.

"Yes Sir," Dean said quietly, not meeting Sam's concerned gaze.

John blew out a deep breath. "Are you and Sammy okay?"

"Yeah, we're good. It's Damien who got shot." Dean rubbed a hand over his pounding forehead. He felt his brother's eyes on him. The pain in his arm got slowly worse. He tried to push it back into a far corner of his mind, but ignoring it was getting harder and harder.

"How is Junior holding up?" The younger Winchester didn't miss the underlying worry in John's gruff voice.

Dean sighed. "Not good. His fever's still high and he's in a lot of pain. The poison is really doing a number on him." He fought to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"Jim said he got hit by an arrow. You checked for internal bleeding?"

"Yeah. There was no rigidness and he's not coughing up blood or anything. I thought with the poison a hospital wouldn't be such a good idea." Dean explained, his gaze going back to Caleb.

"It was the right decision. The longer we can keep a hospital out of the picture the better. You have an idea of what was attacking you?"

"It's not a Wendigo that much we know now."

"Damn. Okay, maybe we can find traces of the poison on the arrow or Mac can get a reading or something."

Dean suddenly felt cold. Nausea washed over him, the ringing in his ears draining out his father's voice. The arrow, he hadn't thought about it. Not here and not back in the woods. How could he make such a stupid mistake? How could he leave the arrow out there? If something happened to Damien it would be his fault now.

"Dean? Hey, you alright?" Sam shook him slightly, his worried eyes meeting dazed moss-green ones.

"Dean? You still there?" The concern in John's voice more evident.

The younger Winchester cleared his throat, Sam's eyes never leaving him. "Yeah, I'm here."

"You got the arrow, right?"

Dean closed his eyes, resigned. "Dad, I'm sorry… "

"Damn it, Dean!" John swore furiously and for the first time Dean was glad they were just talking on the phone.

He kept silent. There was no point in explaining the situation to his Dad. He had screwed up big time, there was no denying it.

"Okay, we'll be there in four hours top. You stay in the room unless it is a fucking emergency. That's an order." The Knight growled. With that the connection was cut.

Dean stared at the phone in his hand, his thoughts racing.

"Dad is angry." It was more a statement than an actual question. Sam crouched next to him, one hand supportingly on the bed, eyeing Dean closely. He frowned. "Are you really okay? You look a little shaken." Behind the concern Dean could easily hear the frightened note his brother's voice.

"I'm fine." He had to get a grip. Sammy was already overwhelmed by all this. The teen didn't need to worry about him too.

Dean exhaled slowly, his gaze flickered from Caleb back to Sam. "Dad and Mac will be here in around four hours. You should get some shut-eye until then."

Sam shook his head, bangs falling into his eyes. "No. I'm going over the research again." He barely suppressed a yawn.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy." The words rang hollow inside Dean.

**oooooooooo**

Rain pounded against the window. It was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

Sam's sleeping form was hunched over the table, covered by Dean's leather jacket. The older hunter was sure the teen would be sore when he woke but Sam needed the sleep.

Dean stared out into the dark without really seeing anything. His thoughts raced. He had really screwed up this time.

He watched a raindrop running down the glass, mixing together with others on its way down.

He needed to do something. All this sitting and waiting was killing him. Dean knew searching for this thing all by himself wasn't a smart idea but it was better than watching his best friend suffer. But then again, Mac and Dad were coming.

The inky blackness of the night was slowly fading into softer blue and gray shades of dawn.

A sudden stab of pain coursed through his arm and Dean felt his hand shaking. He carefully started to bend and unbend his fingers, hoping to ease the pain this way. The cramps had gotten worse over the last few hours. He knew he had started to run a fever.

Exhaling slowly he leaned his head against the window, the glass cool against his too warm forehead.

A low moan made Dean turn around. He was surprised to find Caleb's eyes open and trained on him.

"Hey," the psychic said softly, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Hey yourself," Dean greeted, relieved to see the other hunter awake and seemingly coherent. He moved back to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. "How are you feeling?" He eyed him closely. Caleb was white as a sheet, except for the flushed cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. Dean could easily see how hard it was for him to keep his eyes open and focused.

Caleb ran his tongue over chapped lips. "Like somebody … shot me."

"No shit, man." Dean snorted, holding a bottle of water in front of Caleb. "Small sips."

Caleb nodded, grateful for the cool liquid. Though the relief was short lived when another wave of pain ran through his body, making him groan.

"Easy Caleb." Dean steadied the bottle before it could slip. The pain lines on Caleb's face deepened, his breathing fast and shallow. His eyes closed tightly.

Dean squeezed Reaves's arm slightly, hoping to ground him.

Slowly the pain seemed to subside some and Caleb's breathing slowed.

"You're still with me?" Dean asked concerned.

Caleb swallowed thickly and nodded, eyes slowly blinking open again. "Yeah." It sounded strained and breathless. "Man, this sucks." He buried deeper into the rough motel sheets.

"I know." Dean squeezed Caleb's arm again, feeling all but ten again. "Dad and Mac are on their way. Jim too. They should be here within the next hour."

"Great. Johnny will …. love this." Caleb groaned.

"Tell me about it." Dean recalled the phone call he had with this father. John was so going to kill them for this hunt."I'm positive we'll be running maneuvers until summer."

"Great." Caleb shivered, his eyes drooping further. "You turned the a/c on high or … why is it… so fucking cold … in here?"

Dean frowned, resting a hand against the psychic's forehead. The lack of protest worried him.

"Your fever's going up again. But the holy water seems to have slowed the poison a bit."

Caleb blinked again. Dean could see that he was slowly but surely losing his fight against sleep.

"Deuce, what's wrong?"

The question caught the middle Winchester off guard and he laughed humorlessly.

"You mean besides you being poisoned and that we don't have a fucking clue of what this shit is or of what's out there? Well, besides that everything's just peachy."

"Believe me … I didn't plan … to end up as … a Thanksgiving meal f-for some … supernatural fucker. 'sides, I'm not dying, Deuce. So stop t-the drama."

Dean didn't meet Reaves's eyes. He knew Caleb only said this for his benefit and he was thankful for it. But the brave words couldn't hide the fact that if they didn't find an antidote soon things could get really bad.

_And you left the damn arrow in the woods._

Dean shook his head slightly to get rid of that thought. No, he would fix it. There had to be more than one way to get an antidote.

He felt Caleb's eyes on him, wondering if the psychic was reading him.

"Deuce?"

"I …" Dean shook his head, his gaze serious. "Just hang in there. No checking out on us, you hear me! You know, I kind of got used to having you around." His eyes finally met Caleb's. It had been a long time since he had felt so utterly helpless. "I don't want to lose you, man."

"You won't," Caleb said. For a moment Dean could almost believe things were back to normal, that Damien was fine and ready to face any monsters looming in the shadows. The pain he saw reflected in his friend's gold eyes snatched the second of reassurance away.

"Chick flick … over?" Caleb smirked though his attempt for humor couldn't hide the new assault of pain.

"Shut up!" Dean huffed. "And you better hang in there. Otherwise I'll so kick your ass. Sick or not."

"You're all … sunshine." Caleb snorted, his eyes blinking shut on their own accord.

Dean smirked and squeezed Caleb's shoulder. "Yeah, that's why you…" He stopped when Reaves moaned and curled into himself, one hand fisted in the older Winchester's button-down shirt. A choked outcry escaped the older hunter's throat.

"Easy. Take it easy." Dean soothed. His stomach clenched as he felt Caleb's grip suddenly relax. "It's going to be okay." He rested a comforting hand on the psychic's head, brushing some strands away from Caleb's sweaty forehead.

Dean's head shot up at the sudden rumble of a car. He would recognize that tone everywhere. Help was finally here.

**ooooooooo**

TBC…..

Thank you so much for reading this! And reviews always feed my muse! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey folks! *hides behind my notebook*  
Okay, I know I kept you waiting far too long and I'm really really sorry for that. I hope the nineteen pages will make up for it. :)

I'm graduating from Physical Therapy School this summer and most of my time is spend studying or doing practice work. So just be warned, the next update will take some time as well… (Please don't hate or kill me for that…. …. …. *looks innocently at the end*) I think there are at least two or three more chapters to go before the story is finished.

Anyway, I want to thank every one of you. I'm still speechless about all your support and patience with me and my ridiculously long update-times. It means so much to me! Thank you!

This time a fair bunch of awesome people helped me with this chapter – As always my hugest thanks to Enkidu07 for beta'ing this chapter not once but twice and her wonderful advices and thank you to TheKritty for being there for me all the way :). Also a special thanks to Soncnica for helping me with a certain scene even when she's not really a Brotherhood fan and last but not least huge huge thanks to Ridley for her SOS-beta on another certain scene and for her believe in this story. *huggles you all*

Just a little warning – this chapter is really intense and emotional.

The memory about the constellations is taken from Ridley's story _In Victus_. If you haven't read it yet I really suggest you should check it out. :)

_Disclaimer:_ See Chapter 1

Okay and now have fun reading! :)

_**Previously:**__"Easy. Take it easy." Dean soothed. His stomach clenched as he felt Caleb's grip suddenly relax. "It's going to be okay." He rested a comforting hand on the psychic's head, brushing some strands away from Caleb's sweaty forehead._

_Dean's head shot up at the sudden rumble of a car. He would recognize that tone everywhere. Help was finally here._

**ooooooooooooooooo**

A knight is sworn to valor!  
His heart knows only virtue.  
His blade defends the helpless.  
His might upholds the weak.  
His word speaks only truth.  
His wrath undoes the wicked!

Dragonheart

**Chapter 4**

"Caleb?" Mac placed a hand on his son's cheek, the worried look on his face deepened. His gray eyes met John's. "He has a high fever."

Caleb stirred. His brow furrowed in pain, eyes fluttering. "Dad?" The one word barely more than a hoarse whisper.

"I'm here." Mac moved his hand to Caleb's forehead, brushing sweat-soaked strands away before checking his pulse.

John's angry gaze shifted from Caleb's bed back to his sons. Dean knew the look – John was fuming. They were in for a major dress down.

"What the hell were you thinking?" The Knight roared, glancing at Dean. "Wait, that's right, you probably weren't thinking at all. Dean, I gave you an order. One simple order. Do you even know how much danger you placed your brother in? You were supposed to be watching out for Sam, not to purposely dragging him into harm's way. Not to mention the whole outcome of this fucking hunt. I thought I taught you better than this. You're disappointing me, Dean."

"I'm sorry, Sir." Dean didn't meet his father's eyes. There was no point in arguing with his Dad when he was in a mood like that. And John was right, he_ had_ screwed up. Big time.

The hunt was a bad idea, but if he hadn't insisted on coming Caleb could still be out there in the woods. Alone and injured or worse…

Panic once again seized through him as his thoughts drifted back to the forgotten arrow.

Dean felt Sam tense beside him, preparing for another argument. Arguing seemed to be second nature to the kid lately. "Dad–"

"Don't even start, Sam. You don't have a say in this." John growled, cutting his youngest protests short.

Dean suppressed a sigh and placed a hand on his brother's arm, slightly shaking his head. They didn't need another fight between Sam and his Dad right now. John was in a bad enough mood already.

He was tired of all the fighting; tired of being always caught in the middle. "Sam, don't." Dean hissed softly.

"Johnny, 's not their fault. I asked them … to help me." Caleb interjected, his voice strained. But it had the exact effect Dean knew Caleb was counting on – it focused The Knight's full wrath on him. "Thought it would be … an easy in an' out with the three of us. Getting shot … was definitely not … on my list. And if it weren't for them … I p-probably would still … be out there." Caleb tried to sit up but a crippling wave of pain stopped his movement. "Fuck." He panted through clenched teeth.

"Take it easy, son." Mac shot a heated look Winchester's way. "Jonathan, this is not the time–"

"It was a … bad idea. I should have… known …." The psychic shifted, trying to make it once again into a sitting position, one hand pressed on the wound in his side.

"Damn straight you should have known. I trusted you with my boys." John snarled, glancing from Dean back to Caleb. "I mean a fucking Wendigo hunt? After everything that had happened last time you had nothing else to do than just take my boys with you?" His voice grew louder, angrier. "Did you even research this hunt at all?"

"John…" A defiant look crossed Reaves's pale features.

"Dad, both Damien and Sammy researched it. At the first look the Wendigo-theory fit." Dean stepped in, moving closer to Caleb's bed.

They had been sure that Boone was right about the Wendigo. A rookie mistake. One of the first rules John had ingrained into their brains was to never go blind into a hunt. To always check all the facts for yourself. History apparently repeated itself again and again.

"John –" Caleb started again but his mentor interrupted him.

"I'm not done yet." John growled, ignoring the angry glare Mac shot in his direction. "You're smarter than this and I thought I could trust you to keep my boys safe. But no, you had to drag them out into the woods and look what happened." He raked a hand through his dark hair. "Dragging Dean along is bad as it is but to take Sammy with you on a fucking Wendigo hunt? That's just dumb and reckless."

John's words cut deep. Dean could see the hurt look flash in Caleb's glassy gold eyes.

"That's not true." Sam defended Caleb fiercely.

"Dad, Caleb didn't drag us into the woods. I told him we would come." Dean tried to explain though he left out the part about Sammy almost blackmailing them if they didn't let him come too. "He protected us when the thing attacked." His eyes briefly met Caleb's.

"Enough! All of you." Mac snapped, glaring at Winchester. "This hunt went south, alright, but you can't tell me that all of your hunts were perfect, John. What's done is done so we better concentrate on fixing things. I'm not putting my son's health in jeopardy because of you needing to make a point."

"John, I'm sorry." Caleb mumbled, closing his eyes in exhaustion. Pain was evident on his pale face, his breathing harsh and uneven.

"Easy." Mac said gently, squeezing his son's hand. The concerned frown deepened.

John's face softened. Blowing out a long breath he added "Alright." He ran a hand over his beard and through his hair, his gaze going back to Reaves. "Mac is right. The sooner we find this thing the better."

"What?" Caleb panted, trying desperately to act normal. "You … agreeing that you … were wrong?" He smirked faintly.

"Don't push your luck, Junior." John said without heat.

A new searing wave of pain ripped through Caleb. With a suppressed moan he curled to his side, one hand fisting in the sheets, knees drawn up high to his chest.

"Caleb!"

"Damien!"

Mac and Dean called out in unison. Dean watched The Scholar placing a hand on Caleb's back, rubbing small comforting circles.

Dean passed John and crouched down next to his best friend. "Easy, just breathe through it."

After what seemed like a small eternity but couldn't be more than a few minutes Caleb's ragged gasps calmed slightly, his tensed muscles relaxing some. Cautiously he slowly rolled back onto his back, fighting hard to keep his eyes open, his breathing even.

"This sucks."

"We'll get you the antidote." John said, giving his oldest son a pointed look. "Just hang in there, Kiddo."He stepped next to Dean who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed near Reaves's head.

"Son, I need to check the wound."

"I was afraid … you would say … that." The psychic grinned, though it was a bad imitation of his usual cockiness.

Mackland squeezed Caleb's arm in sympathy before lifting his son's damp t-shirt. He then carefully removed the blood stained dressing that was covering the arrow wound.

John sucked in a sharp breath. "Fuck."

Dark, almost black looking tendrils blossomed around the angry looking wound, zigzagging in every direction and slowly creeping up higher.

"Mac, you know we have to clean that again." John said quietly.

The seriousness in his Dad's voice made Dean's heart beat faster. He swallowed thickly. _Not again. God please not again_.

Mac sighed, rubbing a finger over his brow. He didn't look happy. "I know."

"What, why?" Sam asked shocked, sounding more like the five-year-old toddler than the fifteen-year-old teenager he was. "But it's hurting him."

"Samuel, we need to slow down the spreading of the poison. You know that." The Scholar explained patiently, riffling through his medical bag on the floor.

"Can't you at least knock him out before you start cleaning the wound again?" Dean lifted his eyes from Caleb, glancing pleadingly to John and Mac.  
Caleb was already hurting and Dean so not wanted a repetition of the earlier events.

"Dean we cannot risk a reaction of the poison to the meds." John reasoned surprisingly calm. He took the small, ornate silver flask Mackland was handing him, his fingers tightening around the metal.

Dean didn't miss the motion. Beneath all the anger and roaring the younger hunter could see worry written all over John's face.

"Deuce … stop the girly behavior... Both of you." Caleb's fever bright golden eyes shifted to Sam before eventually focusing back on Dean. "I'll be fine. I survived the first round of … holy water … Second will be … piece of cake." Though the confident tone was betrayed by the weak and pained quality of Reaves's voice.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

The reaction of the holy water was worse than the first time. There was only so much pain a body could take and Caleb was apparently reaching his breaking point.

"It's going to be okay, son." Mac had picked up Dean's quiet mantra of reassuring words, his voice soothing. Though the worried look on the Scholar's face betrayed the calmness of his words.

Ames tightened his hold on the younger man, pressing him onto the mattress as spasms of pain ripped through him, making him cry out in agony.

"It's alright. It's almost over. Easy."

"S-stop …. pl's." Caleb whimpered, his back arching off the bed, head thrown back into the pillow, his fingers fisted in the thick material of the blanket. He fought against the restraining hands that kept him down.

Dean's thoughts were spinning. He felt the absurd need to protect his best friend. To stop the men who were hurting him, even though he knew that in the end it would help Caleb. At least for a little while. But to hear the older hunter whimper in pain, begging for John and Mac to stop was just too much.

Reaves wasn't helpless and vulnerable. Not like this. Sure, they had their dreaded chick-flick moments when needed but this right now was so out of character, it was so wrong.

Dean felt Sam's fingers tightening their hold on the fabric of his flannel shirt. It was something his brother hadn't done in a very long time – seeking comfort that obviously.

Panicked, huge brown eyes locked with Dean's, searching for reassurance, a promise, that they would fix this; that Caleb would be alright. His brother looked so much younger than his fifteen years right now. Lost and shaken.

The older Winchester swallowed thickly, his big-brother-instincts working on overdrive. _Come on man get a grip for fuck's sake. You need to do something. _

He moved a little closer to Sam, putting an arm around his brother's shoulders.  
_It's gonna be alright. He'll pull through this, you'll see_. The words remained unsaid, though Dean knew that Sammy had understood them nevertheless.

The younger boy nodded, leaning slightly into Dean.

A choked outcry brought Dean's attention back to the psychic. His heart pounded in his throat, his thoughts going back to the arrow. All of this could have been avoided, if he had only thought about the damn thing earlier…

New white-hot acid shot through Caleb's body, as John again dosed the sizzling and foaming wound with holy water.

"Damn it Caleb, breathe!" John barked loudly, helping Mac to hold down the struggling psychic.

Caleb screamed. His face screwed up in pain, eyes clenched shut tightly, his breath coming out in fast, shallow gasps. Sweat bathed his brow, gluing strands of dark hair to it.

"Nugh… n-no…" Caleb choked. He fought against Mackland's hands. His breathing too ragged and quick, chest heaving under the strain.

"Fuck, Caleb, you need to slow down," Dean flinched at the harsh tone of his Dad's voice.

John gripped the younger man's chin, forcing Caleb to look at him, waiting until the younger man's glassy eyes eventually focused. "Slow down, you're starting to hyperventilate."

"You need to relax, breathe through the pain." Mac coaxed, his voice soft and soothingly. "In and out, just like me."

Caleb once again fought against his restraints, not hearing his father or John.

"Caleb, calm down!" Winchester ordered sharply.

"Stop. Pl's… stop…" Reaves's begged shakily, his back arching off the mattress as a new wave of agony pulled him under again.

Dean's breath got caught in his throat. He could feel his heart beating painfully fast inside his chest, a ringing got louder in his ears.

Suddenly the room felt too small and cramped. He couldn't breathe. It was too hot. He needed air…

He barely heard Sam's surprised call for him as he bolted out of the door.

**ooooooooooooooooo**

It was still dark outside but lighter colors of a gray and rainy morning started to bleed into the pitch-black of night. A cold wind brought rain and fallen leaves with it. It made Dean shiver but it helped clear his mind.

He leaned against the brick wall of the motel just outside their room, fighting to calm his quick breathing. His thoughts were still racing. If he had only thought about the fucking arrow…

Dean's legs gave out under him and he slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold ground, knees drawn up close to his chest, head resting back against the cool stones.

He stared up into the clouded sky, his breath forming small clouds in front of his mouth.

An old memory surfaced from all the other tumbling thoughts.

_"Show me my constellation, Dean." _

"_Right there, little brother. Draco the dragon."_

"_Where's your favorite?"_

"_There's my favorite, Sammy. Orion." _

"_Why's he your favorite?" _

"_Because Pastor Jim says he watches over all hunters. He keeps our family safe." _

"Apparently not," Dean mumbled darkly. He closed his eyes, fighting off another shiver. The pounding in his head had worsened.

The front door opened and closed. A moment later Dean felt Sam sitting down next to him, mirroring his position, their shoulders touching.

The hand on his forehead came unexpected. It startled him.

"What the fuck?" Dean blinked, batting the hand away.

"Dean, you're burning up." Sam's eyes were huge, worry clearly written all over his face.

"I'm fine." He sat up a little straighter, ignoring the throbbing in his left arm.

"No, you're not." Sam shook his head, his bangs falling into his eyes. Dean expected one of Sam's stubborn arguments but there was only earnest concern in the teen's eyes. "Dean what's wrong?"

The older Winchester winced at the fearful tone in his brother's voice. "Nothing is wrong. Probably just caught the sniffles or something out in the woods. I mean after all that rain it's not such a surprise." He shrugged, ignoring the slight spike of pain in his arm.

"You need to tell Dad."

"Hell no!" Dean snapped. "And you are not telling him either."

"What?" An incredulous look crossed the fifteen-year-old's face. "You need to tell him. He can't take you on a hunt when you're sick."

"For fuck's sake Sam, I'm fine!" Dean emphasized angrily. They needed to focus on Reaves not him. "And the hell you'll tell Dad." He stood, ignoring the slight wave of dizziness. The poison slowly started to take its toll on his body. "I know what I'm doing."

"Dean –" Sam crossed the small distance his brother had put between the two of them. He'd said the wrong thing, in the wrong way. Treading around Dean when he was scared or hurt was like a minefield.

"No Sam, don't Dean me." The older Winchester exhaled, raking a hand through his short hair. The turmoil inside of him was back again. The weight around his chest tightened, making it almost impossible to breathe. "Promise me, Sammy. Keep your mouth shut."

"But you can't go –" Sam's protest was cut short by his brother.

"Damn it, Sam, I'm fucking responsible for this. I need to make it right." Dean yelled. He welcomed the wave of anger. It was a better feeling then the gut-clenching fear he had felt the whole night.

"Dean, that's crap. How could you possibly be responsible for this?" Sam shot back, ignoring Dean's angry glare.

The middle Winchester laughed humorlessly, his voice sharp. "You want to know why, Sam? You really want to know?" His fingers curled into fists. "Because I forgot the fucking arrow, Sam. The fucking arrow that was probably our best shot of getting an antidote for this shit." Dean ran a hand over his mouth, his anger dimming. "And if Damien's condition is worsening even more than..."

"What arrow are you talking –" Sam looked confused for a second before understanding flashed in the teen's eyes. "Shit, the arrow." A mix of emotions crossed his face. "But Dean, neither of us thought about it."

"Yeah well, but after Caleb was down I was hunter in charge. I should have thought about it."

"You were busy getting us out of there in one piece."

"Great, what good does it do when Damien is still in grave danger? I screwed up – end of story." Dean suddenly felt tired, the rage-induced adrenalin fading. "Now I need to fix this."

"You are not alone in this, Dean." Sam inched closer to his brother, worry and fear coloring his voice. "And you really think Caleb would want you to risk your life like this? What if you get hurt too?"

Dean eyed his brother for a long moment, trying to not see this from Sam's point of view.

"Whatever," he finally said, moving past the teen and towards the door. "And not a word to Dad. I mean it, Sam."

**ooooooooooooooooo**

John watched Mackland slump down on one of the two chairs in the small kitchenette, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The Knight didn't miss the slight tremble in the other man's hand.

Winchester took another gulp from the steaming cup in his hand, welcoming the burning of the Whiskey as it ran down his throat. Ames wasn't the only one who was a little shaken.

To clean the wound with holy water had been necessary but he hadn't expected the poison to react that strong, to cause that much pain. Maybe they should have knocked out the kid after all. Risking a reaction to the meds now seemed the lesser of two evils.

John moved away from the sink. "Here," He handed a second cup of Irish coffee that was high on the Whiskey and low on actual coffee to Mac.

The Scholar accepted the steaming cup with a nod but didn't drink it. He stared at the dark liquid for a moment, as if it would hold all the answers before gazing up at John.

It had been a long time since Winchester had seen Mac this terrified, though he could relate. If it had been one of his sons lying there poisoned and in so much pain… Hell, Caleb _was_ like his son.

John glanced to the closed frontdoor, wondering if his boys were alright. It wasn't normal for Dean to just bolt out of a room, that was more Sam's thing lately, though under these circumstances he would let it go.

A memory of a bad Wendigo hunt two years ago trickled at the back of his mind. At that time they had been sure they had lost Caleb for good.

The tight knot of dread inside his stomach clenched painfully. He didn't even want to think about the possible outcomes of this hunt. He could have lost his boy. They could have lost all three of them.

_Mary…_

"What in god's name is this, Jonathan?" Mac raked a hand through his hair, his eyes moving from John to his son's unconscious form on the bed.

"I don't know." John answered honestly, though he was determined to find out what did this to Caleb and how he could kill it. He met Mac's gray eyes. "But we will find it, get an antidote." He downed the rest of the hot brew and stepped next to his friend, squeezing Ames's shoulder in a short reassuring manner.

"How is he?" John nodded in Caleb's direction. "Any reaction to the meds yet?"

He couldn't blame Mackland for eventually breaking down and giving Reaves something for the pain. Hell, he had even sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening when Caleb finally succumbed to the medication. Hearing the young man cry out in pain and pleading for them to stop had felt like a well placed sucker-punch to the stomach.

Mac shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "Not really, though I kept the dose low. His breathing is already compromised, a higher dose of Morphine could trigger respiratory distress, but it takes the edge off it." He looked up, his worried gaze meeting John's. "If his condition gets any worse we need to take him to a hospital. His vitals are all over the place and he already has a fever over 103. We don't even know what hidden damage the arrow might have caused." Mac sighed. "And to be honest, I'm not sure if the medication will help much with the poison still coursing through his system."

The Knight nodded, running a hand over his beard and through his hair, slightly wincing at the sting from a cut just above his hairline from their earlier encounter with the Shtriga.  
Whatever they did they needed to do it fast. They were working on borrowed time. "We need to act fast."

"Yes, we do." Mac's gaze went back to Caleb, his gray eyes dark with concern.

Winchester blew out a long breath, his hand brushing over a few papers with Sam's neat handwriting on it. "But first we need some information. One blind hunt is more than enough."

_And that's exactly what this rescue operation will be too – a blind hunt. Damn._

John trusted Sam's researching skills, but right now time was the essence and he couldn't wait until they had some proved answers.

The opening of the door made both hunters look up.

"It's about time." John's words were harsher than he meant them to be. He knew this had to be hard on his sons, especially on Dean but there was no time for sugarcoating things. "Dean, we're heading out as soon as it gets a bit lighter outside. I want you to show me where you were attacked, maybe we can find some clues of what this thing is in the surrounding area. Might find the arrow."

The guilty look on Dean's face deepened, but he straightened, wincing slightly as a sharp cramp shot through his left arm. "Yes, Sir."

Mac sent a disapproval side-glance in John's direction, before eyeing the middle Winchester closely. "Dean, are you alright?" A worried frown appeared on his brow. He raised a hand to Dean's face but the nineteen-year-old dodged it.

"I'm fine, Mac, don't worry. I'm just happy when I can put a bullet through that thing's head and Damien's on the mend." Dean grinned reassuringly, running a hand through his short hair.

Sam opened his mouth to speak but one glance of Dean and he closed it again, his face set in a stubborn, indignant expression.

Mackland still looked skeptical, torn between his concern for Dean and his need to help Caleb. "Are you sure, Dean? You look pale."

John had also noticed Dean's pale complexion and tensed posture and the way his sons were acting was kind of a dead giveaway. Something was off.

He swore silently, his patience was really running thin. "Dean," John trained hard eyes on his son. "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you are fine. And I want an honest answer. This hunt is already a mess, we don't need more people down, you understand me?" The order was clear in his tone and words.

Dean nodded, meeting his father's dark stormy gaze with earnest. " I know that I've screwed up and I just want to fix things, help Damien. So can we please focus back on the important stuff and skip the whole 'how-I-feel-crap?"

"Fine, then tell me what exactly happened out there?" John ignored the twin glares that were pointed at him. He would endure Mackland's speech about parental skills later after they had saved Reaves's ass.

"We thought that we were hunting a Wendigo. Boone had called Damien, told him about –" Dean started to explain, his hand moving unconsciously over his left arm.

"Yeah, Boone told Caleb about the hunt, I know, Jim already told us. Get to the part about the attack." John interrupted Dean shortly. He might not be father of the year anytime soon but then again he wasn't The Knight for nothing.

His boys exchanged a glance. "We were still on our way to the caves we had found in that area, when Damien suddenly heard something."

"Or someone," Sam added, slightly losing the scowl on his face. "Caleb said something about that whatever-it-is felt kind of human but evil."

The Knight frowned. "Human?" He asked, looking at Mac who was mirroring his confused expression.

"Well, whatever it is, it's smart enough to use bow and poisonous arrows." Dean shrugged. "Anyway, Caleb made us seek cover, said, that we're not hunting a Wendigo. Whatever he sensed, it didn't seem good."

"The arrow came out of nowhere." Sam took over, his fingers flying over his notes on the table, searching for something. "We'd just reached a small clearing but were surrounded by bushes – the perfect hiding place for that thing."

"We shot at it, scared it away. Later it tried to attack us again, I winged it with silver ammo but it could flee." Dean exhaled slowly, watching Sam move papers back and forth. "I'm not sure if silver can kill it but at least it'll hurt it." He looked at Mac, unsure about his next words. "I removed the arrow, patched up the wound as good as possible. We didn't know right then that it was poisoned, the symptoms showed later on our way back. I'm sorry, Mac."

John knew for what Dean was apologizing.

He bit back a sharp comment, this whole topic was far from over that was for sure, but tossing blame back and forth now was not getting them closer to an antidote either.

"There is absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Dean." Ames assured calmly but emphatically, squeezing the younger hunter's arm. "You got everyone out of there and to safety. You did nothing wrong." He glanced at his son. Caleb was moving restlessly again. "I'm sure Caleb expected nothing different from you."

John followed Mackland's gaze, feeling the sucker-punch to his stomach again at the sight of Caleb's sick form. "We're burning daylight!" He focused back on his friend. "So what do you think – maybe a Shifter or a Revenant?"

"I don't know, but we need more evidence about the actual missings, more information." Mackland gazed at Sam who finally seemed to have found what he was looking for.

"Maybe I can help with that." Sam started, holding up a slightly crumpled sheet of paper. "After we got back I started to go through all the research again. It's definitely not a Wendigo but there is a pattern nevertheless."

"What kind of pattern?" Mac asked, eyeing the sheet with interest.

"It's not much," Sam glanced at Dean, who had taken John's abandoned place at the sink, bending and flexing his fingers. "But I went over all the missings again and something seemed off with the periods of time."

"What do you mean?" John asked, studying Sam who was now completely in researching-mode.

"Wendigos hibernate, right? They collect their prey and then sleep for the next couple of decades before they need to feed again."

"That's what Julian and Maxim wrote in their journals." Mac agreed, taking a sip from the bitter liquid in his hand, his eyes getting a faraway look. "It was the reason why we found Caleb still alive two years ago."

John suppressed a shudder but nodded in agreement, refilling his own cup with coffee. "But what is your point, Sam?"

"Look," The fifteen-year-old pointed at the list of names and dates. "Whatever this thing is, it's not hibernating. I checked the dates again – all of these people went missing over short periods of time. But there is still a pattern here. Over the last two years, two or three people went missing a month, most of them hikers, people no one would miss for a while."

"Because they were not locals." Mackland concluded. "Samuel, this is really good work."

The teen smiled though it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe, but it's not getting us closer to a solution of what we are dealing with."

"You said people went missing for the last two years, did they find any bodies?" John asked, sending a quick glance to Dean who had been quiet the whole time, frowning.

"No, that's why we first thought that we were dealing with a Wendigo." Dean said, pushing away from the sink and coming to a stand next to his dad. "But like I said, even if it's not a Wendigo it has to be something that's smart enough to use bow and arrow."

"About the poison – Caleb suspected that this was some kind of spellwork and not just a simple poison." Sam pointed out, gazing to the psychic who was mumbling something in his sleep.

"If that is true we need to find this thing alive and find out what it used on the arrow. Maybe Missouri or Joshua can counteract it." Something close to panic flashed in Ames's eyes.

"N-no…" Caleb groaned, his thrashing more anxiously, a hand clawing weakly at his shirt.

"I need to check on him."

John watched Mac move, sitting down on the edge of Caleb's bed, trying to sooth whatever fever-induced dreams were torturing the young man.

"Either way we need to go; the light should be enough by now." Winchester glanced at his sons, thoughtfully rubbing over his whiskers.

"Sam, I want you to stay here with Mac and check out if there is something that happened right before the first person went missing. Maybe there was an event or something that could have triggered this, or at least give us a clue of what we are dealing with here." He trained his eyes on Dean, ignoring Sam's building protest. "We're heading out in ten. We don't know what we're dealing with here so we pack silver and iron ammo as well as rocksalt and holy water. For all we know this could be a demon as well."

**ooooooooooooooooooooo**

Dean sat down on the edge of Reaves's bed with a heavy sigh. Running down a hand over his face, he blew out a long breath, ignoring the dots that were dancing in front of his eyes. His headache was getting worse and he felt slightly nauseous.

He glanced to Sam who was going with Mackland over the research again, thankful for the little personal space they were offering. John was already outside packing their gear.

Dean turned his head, his gaze travelling back to his best friend, who was shifting restlessly, his head rolling from side to side.  
Caleb mumbled something under his breath that Dean couldn't understand, the frown on the older man's face deepened.

Even without touching him, Dean could feel the heat emitting off of the psychic. He grabbed the facecloth, his fingers tightening around the damp warm fabric.

"Hang in there, Damien. Dad and I will find this creep, get you fixed up as good as new." The middle Winchester briefly rested his hand on Caleb's forehead, feeling the unhealthy heat seeping into his palm. "You can't run out on us … on me." Dean said quietly. With a sigh he removed his touch, re-wetting the cloth in the bowl on the nightstand.

"Deuce?" The psychic's voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper but recognition flashed in the glassy gold eyes as they slowly blinked open.

"Damien? Hey you with me? How are you feeling?" Dean felt relief rush through his body, momentarily dimming the growing pain.

Caleb blinked, shifting slightly under the covers, his brow crumpling in concentration. "Feel weird."

Dean snorted, patting the older man's arm. "Yeah, I bet. Mac got out the big guns, gave you the good stuff."

"Lucky me." Caleb ran his tongue over chapped lips. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he forced them open once again, revealing two slivers of amber. He shifted slightly, his face tight with pain, his breathing hitched.

"Take it easy, man." Dean soothed, grasping the psychic's hand, squeezing it tightly. He didn't know how else to offer comfort.

"Remind me not to move." Caleb hissed, his free hand pressed on the wound in his side. A faint smirk ghosted around Reaves's mouth, he glanced at his hand in Dean's. "You're around Sammy too much. I thought… he was the only one… in the family with the emo-genes." He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaustion clearly on his face, but didn't break contact.

Dean snorted and laughed. "Says the one with the Enya CD in his car."

"Wasn't mine." Caleb groaned, his grip tightened around the younger hunter's hand.

"Easy, man."

"Don't worry 'bout me... cavalry's here now." Fever-bright eyes drifted briefly to Mac.

"Yeah, Dad will fix this alright. And afterwards he'll make us run maneuvers until summer, keep you on shit recon jobs for probably a year." Dean released his grip on Caleb's hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, feeling lightheaded and a little shaky. His arm pulsed in time to his heartbeat, radiating agony through his whole body.

"You okay?" Worried amber-like eyes looked at him.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I thought we covered that already – I'm not the one who got hit by an arrow." He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his short hair. "Just worried about you losing even more brain cells." He grinned. "You can't afford that."

"Bite me." Reaves blinked, his eyes staying shut for longer periods of time. "Maybe I can p-play the being-poisoned-card with Johnny." He gasped, painlines deepened on his face.

Dean's pulse sped up. This couldn't be good. Caleb was still feeling too much pain with the amount of meds coursing through his system. They needed to hurry, especially since he started to not feel so hot either.

"It's gonna be okay. Dad and I will get the fucker who attacked us. You just hang in there." Dean saw fear flash across Reaves's face.

"You shouldn't be … out there … alone. I have a bad feeling … about this hunt."

The middle Winchester smirked, pushing the growing knot of fear back in a far corner of his mind. He absently flexed his fingers. "Who is the girl now? 'sides, you're kidding, right? I'm out there with Dad, what could possibly happen?"

"I'm serious." Caleb pressed out between clenched teeth, fighting to control his breathing. It wasn't hard to see that the psychic was losing his fight against sleep and exhaustion.

"So am I." Dean reassured, meeting Caleb's worried gaze. "You'll be alright. I mean, after all we can't miss Thanksgiving at the Farm, can we?"

"Deuce…" The older man tried to push himself into a semi-upright position.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop it, Damien." Dean pressed him back down into the pillows.

"You shouldn't be …. out there…"

"Who shouldn't be out there?" John asked, coming to a stand on Reaves's other side of the bed.

"Johnny," Caleb gasped, his eyes fluttering close for a moment as the pain got out of control. "C-can't you call in backup? Bobby or… Josh?" Glassy eyes starred pleadingly up at the older hunter.

John met Mac's worried gaze for a moment before bringing his attention back to his protégée. "That's not possible. We need to move out now." He rested the back of his hand against Caleb's forehead. "You're trying for a record there, Junior?"

Caleb ignored his mentor's invitation for a smart-ass remark. "John please… I'm fine. You can call in… backup."

"Damien, it's alright. Relax." Dean squeezed Reaves's shoulder. He couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that grew in his stomach.

"Caleb, where is this coming from? You had a vision or something?" Winchester pressed a hand against Reaves's chest, efficiently stopping the younger man's fruitless attempt to sit up.

"Caleb, you need to calm down." Mac was at John's side now.

"N-no vision. Just… just a bad feelin'." Caleb's words started to run together, his last adrenalin reserves vanishing.

John patted the younger hunter's chest before removing his touch all together. "Don't worry. We got it covered. All you need to do is to hang in there, okay?" Looking at his son he added, "Let's go, Dean."

Dean nodded, standing to follow his father and Mac but Reaves caught the sleeve of his flannel shirt, his fingers twisting the fabric in a death-grip. "Be careful… Deuce." Caleb slurred, his gold gaze clouded from fever and pain.

"I will. But so are you – no checking out on us, okay?" He smirked, ignoring the feeling that this felt too much like a goodbye.

He shook his head. Maybe Damien was right and he_ was_ too much around Sammy and his teeny-angstyness.

Sam was already waiting for him at the open door, his face hidden in the shadows of the room and the growing dawn outside.

"You alright?" The teen asked quietly.

Dean rolled his eyes, briefly looking to Dad and Mac who were standing by John's truck, talking.

"Everybody keeps asking me that. Yeah, I'm fine, Sammy." He nodded in Reaves's direction. "Keep an eye on him, okay?"

Sam's worried brown eyes locked with Dean's. "Please, be careful."

"I will, Samantha." The middle Winchester grinned, ruffling his brother's hair. He hoped it would take some of the deer-in-the-headlight-look out of Sammy's face. That and he had enough of all the hallmark moments. Nobody was going to die today so no need for all this emotional crap.

Sam swore, batting Dean's hand away. "I mean it, Dean. What if Caleb is right? What if it was a vision? I mean –"

"Sam –"

Sam ignored his brother's objection. "I mean, he had mentioned dreams of you before. Remember before Dad and Mac came? He said you were in danger, that something was after you." Fear bled into the fifteen-year old's voice, overshadowing the matter-of-fact tone from before. "Plus, you're sick."

So much for no chick-flick moments anymore. Dean sighed, cursing his brother's puppy dog eyes.

"Sammy, Damien is out of it right now. He can't think straight. And even if it is what you think it is, we're running out of options here. Like Dad said, we don't have the time to call in backup and Dad can't go out there alone. So that leaves me going with him."

"But why? Why does it leave only you?" Sam shot back, anger flashing in his gaze.

"Sam what do you want?" Dean hissed, keeping his voice low to not alert Ames or Winchester. "You want to send Mac with Dad? That would leave us in the exact same situation as last night. And I really don't need that." And it was his fault after all. He needed to fix it.

"I can come with you, be your backup. You're not a hundred percent, I can help." Sam said softly, meeting his brother's green eyes.

Dean looked at the fifteen-year old, taking in the disheveled look and shell-shocked expression. Right now Sam looked so much younger, scared.

"It's alright, Sammy. It's –"

"Dean," John's gruff words cut through the silence of the early morning, the engine of the truck roared to life.

"Coming," Dean hollered back over his shoulder before looking back at Sam, squeezing the teen's shoulder. "I need you to keep an eye on Caleb, okay? Don't worry about me, I'll be careful." Dean smirked, struggling to ignore the blood pounding in his head, behind his eyes. "You'll see, in a couple of days Damien will have our asses for all the drama."

A faint smile ghosted around the youngest Winchester's lips, as he nodded.

**oooooooooooooooo**

Dean blinked sweat out of his eyes. His mouth felt dry and bile was slowly rising in the back of his throat, made him swallow thickly. Everything seemed covered in a fog though he was pretty sure that was just his muddled brain playing tricks on him.

John was a good couple of steps ahead of him, soundlessly moving through the thick bushes.

Dean stumbled, catching himself on the trunk of an old oak tree. He stood there, head resting against the rough damp bark for a second, eyes closed, feeling his gun dig into the small of his lower back.

A shiver ran through him. It had stopped raining again about an hour ago but the icy chill that now lingered was a soon promise of snow.

He hated woods, especially in November. No scratch that, he hated woods _period._

They had been searching for almost three hours now. Dean was still surprised that he'd easily found the clearing where the attack went down in the first place. Rain had washed most of Reaves's blood away though there were still traces here and there but no signs of the arrow or a clue of what they were dealing with.

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes, damn, he needed to focus, especially since it was getting harder to ignore the slowly spreading poison in his system.

He placed his hand over the throbbing cut on his left arm. Fuck, this couldn't be good.

Looking up he could barely see John's moving form between all the bushes and other evergreens in front of him. The unnatural silence of the woods was unnerving. Even for the end of November it was far too quiet.

Dean's hand moved to his gun at the back of his jeans, starting to follow his Dad.

Without warning the ground suddenly gave out under him and he fell. He didn't even have time for a surprised outcry before the impact forced all air out of his lung.

Searing pain shot through him then everything went dark.

Dean didn't know how long he had blacked out. Coming to was hard and unpleasant and with growing awareness came the pain.

The younger hunter gasped, clenching his eyes tightly shut. His head felt like it was going to explode any second; something warm and sticky was running down his face, mixing with the mud underneath him. Something thicker than water or sweat – _fuck_.

Dean tried to shift but the movement sent white-hot tendrils of agony through his right lower leg, the limp throbbing in time to his racing heartbeat, his fingers digging into the muddied earth, fisting around cold wet leaves

He cried out, his voice raw and weak. Swallowing thickly he tried to ignore the sudden wave of nausea, bile burning in the back of his throat. The intense smell of damp soil and rotten leaves didn't really help to calm down his flip-flopping stomach.

Panting through the pain he blinked heavy-lidded eyes open, hissing as his headache intensified to an almost unbearable level.

Panic rushed through him as his muddled brain finally realized where he was.

He was lying belly down in something that seemed to be a deep hole or pit or something – either way it was a trap, that much he knew.

Moving inch by inch to not startle his leg or any other hidden injury yet again Dean slowly looked up, seeing the edge of the hole a few feet above him.

Dizziness washed over him and his vision doubled.

Crap, this didn't look good. If he was honest, he wasn't sure if he could make it out of here on his own. Not with the way his leg was hurting.

The younger hunter clenched his teeth, trying to move his legs but a breathtaking wave of pain shot through his right limb, dark dots dancing in front of his eyes. A choked whimper escaped his throat.

Over the ringing in his ears and the rolling nausea he could hear muffled shouts. _Dad! Thank god._

"Dad!" He screamed though even in his own ears his voice sounded weak, the yell for help more like a hoarse whisper.

Ignoring the pain he tried to make it in a somewhat upright position, his arms shaking under the strain to hold up his weight.

"Dad!" He screamed again, his voice breathless but a little stronger this time.

"Dean! Goddamn it, answer me!" John's voice grew softer, moving further away from him.

Dean felt himself losing his battle against unconsciousness, his body betraying his determination. He blinked, struggling to stay awake but darkness was eating his vision fast.

_No, no he couldn't black out again … _

"Dad…" He whispered desperately, his arms giving out under him as oblivion swallowed him completely.

**oooooooooooooooooo**

Mac leaned against the sink, listening to Jim's calm voice on the other end of the cell. Sometimes the Pastor's calmness amazed him, especially in crisis like this, when his own stomach was a tight knot of dread.

He shifted, wincing as whatever dug into his back re-woke the blooming bruises from his close encounter with an old chair.

Mac rubbed a hand over his forehead, tracing A pattern on the worn kitchen floor. Whoever thought that mixing yellow and purple tiles was a good idea was either a frigging genius or just plain crazy. Right now he would bet his money on the latter.

"The medication is barely working. His fever has been holding steady for the last two hours but that's about it. He is drifting in and out of consciousness but I don't want to knock him out completely. His breathing is already shallow, using more pain relievers could be unwise." The Scholar sighed, lifting his gaze to Sam, who had taken a seat next to his son, running a cloth over the older man's face.

"I have searched through half of the journals in The Tomb but with what we know so far it is not possible to exactly pinpoint something. I called Missouri for advice but she also needs more details to help with something to counteract the poison." Jim's voice was still calm but Mac could hear the underlying weariness in his friend's words. He could see the preacher running a hand through his gray hair, exhaling slowly. "Looks like our best chance is to hunt down whatever did this to our boys."

Mac nodded, though he knew the Guardian couldn't see it, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "John and Dean are on it; they are searching for the attacker as we speak. And we will head out to the library as soon as you arrive."

Jim was silent for a moment. "How are you holding up, my friend?"

Mac huffed out a long breath, frowning when he noticed his son's restless movements on the bed.

"Jim, hold on for a sec,"

"Easy Caleb, it's okay." Sam said softly, soothing the facecloth once again over the psychic's cheeks and forehead. But despite the younger Winchester's best efforts the thrashing got more agitated, Caleb's eyes rolled under closed lids, his face contorted in pain. He moaned, his head moving from side to side.

"Caleb?" Sam asked, his gaze flicking helplessly in Ames's direction before landing back on Reaves.

"NO_._"

The fifteen-year old wasn't prepared for Caleb suddenly jack-knifing upright, almost knocking him off the bed in the process.

Caleb gasped, doubling over as the flaring pain in his side caught up with the rest of his body, one arm protectively wrapped around his middle.

"Damn," Ames swore softly.

"Mackland?" Jim sounded worried.

"I'll call you back." Without further explanations or the wait for an answer Mac ended the phone call, hurrying to the younger man's bedside.

"Caleb, hey, take it easy." The Scholar placed a steadying hand on Caleb's shoulder, concerned about the amount of heat he could feel radiating off of him. "Come on, let's get you laying back down again, ease some of the strain on your stitches." Mac gently pressed him back onto the bed.

"No, Dad…" Caleb fought unsuccessfully to stay upright, his panicked gaze locking with Mac's. "They're… they're in danger. The woods…" He panted through gritted teeth, his voice strained. "We need to find them. They need to… come back..." Caleb pushed weakly at the bed sheet.

"Caleb, calm down." Ames rested the back of his hand against Reaves's forehead; his temperature was through the roof, so was his pulse. Damn.

"No, we … we don't have … time. Deuce…" He groaned, when ripples of pain shot through him.

Ames caught Sam's fearful look at the mention of his brother. A bad feeling was growing inside his stomach. Maybe these weren't just dreams caused by the high fever…

"I need you to calm down first, son. Your fever's gone up again. You –"

"You don't … understand, Dad." The psychic got more agitated, shifting restlessly on the bed.

"Caleb –" Sam started, his voice filled with too much emotion to pass as soothing or calm.

"Dean's… he's in… danger… T-trap… The thing's… after him… Vis–" Without warning Reaves's eyes rolled back and his body started to convulse.

"Mac!" Sam's voice was high with fear, his hands fighting to keep Caleb down on the bed.

"Don't hold him down, Sam." Mac ordered, his tone stern. "Just make sure he can't hurt himself." He glanced at his watch, counting the seconds.

"What's happening?"

"He is seizing. His fever is too high." Mac desperately tried to ignore his parental side which was screaming inside his head. He glanced back at his watch - almost two minutes already.

Suddenly the younger hunter's body went completely still, his head lolling to his side. It was then that Mac noticed the thin rivulet of blood trickling out of the corner of Caleb's mouth.

"Shit," Mackland's rare use of such words made Sam wince. Huge brown eyes traced all his moves

The Scholar's frantic hands tossed the blanket aside, lifting the damp t-shirt.

"Sam, call an ambulance, _now! _Tell them they need to hurry, that we have a patient with internal bleeding here."

"Internal –"

"Now Sam!" Ames emphasized sharply, his eyes focusing back on the stained gauze, the spot of fresh blood steadily growing. Dark tendrils crawled out from under the bandage, zigzagging in all directions, creeping higher up Caleb's chest. He didn't have to touch his abdomen to know it was rigid. Shit, how could he have missed this?

Caleb coughed weakly, adding more blood to the small rivulet trickling down his chin.

This was bad, really bad.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

TBC…


End file.
